The Heartless
by corndog1992
Summary: Orphans are the children of death, and Menar is no exception. He is forced to flee his orphanage after a Satanist cult, The Heartless, raid and nearly destroy his town. Simple revenge becomes complicated when secretive friends become enemies, and he discovers his mother is alive serving the Heartless. In his battle to uncover his beginnings, he may very well meet his end.
1. Chapter 1: Tedious Tests

_Chapter One_

_**Tedious Tests**_

Electric energy galvanized Menar's muscles. He stood on edge, ready for the test he was certain he'd pass. After all, he had been training for this for weeks. "Alright, Menar," Brother Paul said. "Whenever you are ready."

Menar gave him a quick nod, entirely focused on himself. "I am ready, Brother Paul." Brother Paul smiled warmly. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Take a globe of water from that fountain and fill my flask, please." A few people in the class snickered.

Menar was taken aback; the task did seem mundane. "O-okay." he stammered, a little of his focus drained at the odd request. There had to be a catch, though. Brother Paul always challenged you, made you think. The trouble was, you didn't always know what he was thinking.

Brother Paul extracted a rather plain canteen from his robes and lain it in front of the class for everyone to see. Menar stared at it. He couldn't help but wonder exactly what the point was. Menar looked at Brother Paul. He continued to smile, almost dumbly, mesmerizingly. Menar stared at him blankly.

He snapped his attention to the fountain. "Sorry." Out of his peripheral vison, Menar saw him draw a look of confusion. "For what?" Menar didn't know. He felt rediculous now. The class laughed at the awkward silence, dealing a blow to his confidence.

Brother Paul held up a hand. "Quiet, let's let him focus, now." As the class simmered down, Menar grew more comfortable. The heavy, expectant silence wieghed down upon him like a blanket. Heads turned and whispered, but he only had eyes and ears for the fountain.

He could feel it now, the Connection. It rubbed against his conciousness so gently, flowing along with his being with all the placidity of a gently streaming river. He abolished the electric energy that had put him on edge and just let go. He spread his legs wider, fluidy. He let his body flow naturally. Brother Paul stared intently upon him.

Menar cooly raised his hand, extending as far as he could reach without straining it. The class snickered again. Brother Paul didn't say anything, just stared at him. Everyone wasn't holding back. They just did whatever natural impulse came to them. Naturally.

Menar upturned his palm. He could feel the water now, cool and calming, even though it was yards away. Then, time seemed to slow immensely. Menar stood like that for a little while, concentrating. It almost had him spell bound.

Then, Menar shot his fingers to the sky, and the water that fell accumulated in an upside down arc. Brother Paul furrowed his brow, but, again, said nothing. While it was filling, he made sure the rest of his body was relaxed to match the natural flowing of the water.

Once halfway filled, he brought his other hand over the cupped hand and fitted his hand over it to make a sphere. The water in the fountain mimicked his hands and filled to a more shapely, if not perfect orb.

The entire class was silent now, watching him with rapt, unwavering attention. He navigated the orb fairly easily, until he saw Claire watching him fixedly. It faltered, only for a moment, before he regained control.

He reprimanded himself. '_This is easy, don't mess it up. Focus._' he thought. He Willed the orb, if somewhat shakily, to move to the canteen without any further delay. He balanced it carefully over it and saw that the opening left for little error.

He allowed a tiny trickle to descend into the hole. He could not release much more, because the orb did not stand still enough. He stood like that a while. Nobody else moved either. It seemed as though the shining of the illustrious orb had captivated the class, ushering them into silence.

Menar could feel the sun on his back; he began to sweat. In the stillness, many things drove him utterly mad. The itch on his arm, the incessent barking of a dog in the distance, the heat difference of the water he could feel in his hands and his hot head- but the thing that flustered him the most was the loud trickling of the water.

The orb was barely a quarter done, yet the trickle had pounded the canteen for what seemed ike an eternity. His connection was straining now. The orb either wavered or deformed for a moment. Then, it dawned on him.

The weeks he had trained was not how much water he could carry, it was about stamina and patience. Menar had to think fast, before his connection with the water broke.

He did not feel physically tired at all, but he could sense the definite straining in his mind. He realeased his to hand and motioned it over his other cupped hand in a stirring motion. That helped improve the accuracy greatly and thus far, he hadn't spilled a single drop. He waited.

By the time there was a third left, Menar was pushing his limits. He realized there was no way he could hold out. '_If only that hole wasn't so small_.' he thought, irritated. His mind worked feverishly. He could only hold it up a minute or so longer.

His eye scanned the courtyard. He knew some were waiting for him to mess up. He looked at Claire. She flickered her eyes to him, suddenly aware that she was being watched. Menar's gaze faltered and his eye rested upon a rock near Claire's foot.

He stopped turning the orb and motioned the rock to him. Making more than one magical connection was dangerous, because it broke down other magical connections, and, if you tried hard enough, your mind.

Claire looked towards the sudden movement with surprise, as did most of the calss. Menar smoothed an arc into the entire top side of it using Earth magic and placed it on the canteen. He let the water flow quickly on the rock and finished considerably faster than the alternative method.

He then swung his hand up firmly. The rock and grains that slipped into the water left it, leaving it purified. Brother Paul broke the silence with sudden laughter. Everyone jolted at the unexpected outburst. He continued. Menar was puzzled. Some of the others even giggled, catching the contageous joy.

His jubulant laughter subsided into partially controlled giggles. "You-you little con-artist!" he exclaimed. Menar was confused at the unproved accusation "I'm not sure exactly what you mean, sir." Brother Paul shook his head. "You know all too well what I mean."

The class murmered. Menar stood silently, at a loss for words. Brother Paul's eyes sparkled with gleeful disbelief, like a child being rewarded while he was supposed to be punished. He stood up, collected the canteen, and took a swig.

"What you did well." he paced the yard in random directions, looking at the sky. "At first I didn't understand why you would gather the water in such an odd shape, but as I later saw, you waited for the water to fill to a relatively large orb, instead of gathering it directly from the bottom in controlled amounts, bypassing what I thought would be your test of patience." he glanced at him. "Which was the point, by the way, becuase I already know you have a strong inital connection." He continued to pace.

"You managed to make things more difficult for yourself. It's hard to maintain a constant, inactive connection with any of The Five Elements. I noticed that you stirred the water as well." He stroked his chin. "Very clever."

Menar blushed. Someone in the class popped their knuckles. "But," he said, his pointing a finger at Menar, "While that may have helped you, the water pressed harder against the force containing it. Namely, you."

"I saw you troubled. Your eyes wandered." he walked behind Claire. Menar turned redder. "All the way over here." he put a hand on Claire's shoulder, making her look up and smile. Menar bit his lip. "To the rock that lay here. I understand you are going to take your Knight test soon."

Menar could feel pride swelling inexplicably inside his chest. "Yes, Brother Paul." "Then those are qualities that will undoubtedly help you achieve Knighthood and a good quality of life." Brother Pual beamed at him. Menar felt humbled with so many staring at him.

He didn't want to sound like a show-off but he didn't want to scorn the compliment given him, especially from someone he respected so much and seemed so entusiastic about it. "I-erm, thanks." Brother Paul nodded and motioned for him to sit. "Now," he said, walking to the center of the calss again and rubbing his hands. "who is going next?"

(Emphasize time change) The day wore on, shining down birlliance up the courtyard. Students preformed simple tasks with water and recieved sompliments or construvive criticism. One of the yonger girls burst into tears when she went up. Many of the students looked sympathetically at her when Brother Paul had to come over to her. Although Menar felt piteous, he didn't understand why anyone would cry just because they were binglooked at.

Brother Paul whispered something to her. She nodded slowly. Sitll sniffling and rubbing her eyes, she returned to her seat and sat in a featal postion, buring her head between her knees,

"Alright, I'm going to do something a little different this time. Claire, come up here please." She obey wearily. Menar watched her with his head in his hands. How did she float like that?

She walked to Brother Paul and stood by him. "Megan," he beckoned her. Menar cringed at her name (explain). What an odd combination. Megan walked to the other side of Brother Paul and stood. With the to of them so close together, the difference between them was emphasized.

Megan was young and shorst, standing across the taller, more womanly Claire. Megan had long, blonde hair that swung freely, while Claire's was more controlled; her brown hair was shoulder length, and pulled up in a ponytail so it swayed with her every step. Megan wore several layers of bright clothing, and Claire dressed in a simple, dark colored outfit. It was an odd sight, certainly.

"Now, for your tests. Are you ready?" he asked kindly, glancing between the two of them. "Sure!" Megan exclaimed excitedly. Claire nodded solemly. "Alright," he said, wringing his hands "I want you to both extract water from the fountain as we have been doing, but make a trail togther. Like this."

Brother Pual waved his hand lazily in the air. Water rose and made a stream in midair. He allowed it to drift for a while and returned it to the fountain. "That was pretty." someone behind Menar mubmumbled. Some of the people that heard nodded.

"You may start whenever you are ready." Brothe Paul said and sat down. Megan and Claire looked at each other, as if they weren't quiet sure how to start. ThenClaire turned her attention to the fountain and began moving the water out slowly, letting Megan know that she was ready.

She immediately assisted Claire. They worked in unison for a while. The water lolled out of the bottom basin and rose steadily in the air just above their heads, no problem. It rolled on for a moment or two, then it started to speed and falter. Menar noticed Brother Paul close his eyes, but did not do anything to assist. Menar ssumed, like he, was waiting to see how long it would stay up.

The stream streached and contracted spasmotically, threatening to break at any moment. Claire contorted her face in confusion, however Megan appeared to be frustrated. "Speed up!" Megan spat. Claire glanced at her angrily. "Go at one pace! You're moving too-" the stream suddenly collapsed, echoing loudly within the enclosed space.

Brother Paul opened his eyes at the sound. "'...with the barrier broken, we stand stronger.'" Brother Paul said. Megan and Claire matched one anothers glare, obviously irritated. "'I speak these riddles so that you may learn, that you may grow, and save us from ourselves.'" Claire replied. She looked and Brother Pual and glanced furtively at Megan, who looked now, also, looked at Brother Paul, as though she was being left out of a secret.

"What are you two talking about?" she asked, lacking the angry tone Menar had expected. "A book," replied Claire, who still sounded annoyed. " I recommended it to Brother Paul not long a go, _Redemption,_. I'm surprised you read it so fast."

"Years of practice," he smiled, "It is a great book, and I would reccomend it to anyof you." he looked over the class. "It's about a young man who is part of a small band of diverse heros to save the world from the apocolypse. They struggle to trust each other and learn to work together to save the world."

Claire nodded. "That's how I designed your tests." he looked at Claire. "Ironic, no? You should all know by now that I try to devop your weaknessess into strengths. Claire, I know you are a soloist, and have a hard time trusting others. You are a leader at heart, but leaders must have trust in their peers and subordinates. It is what makes leaders great."

He turned to Megan and sighed. "Megan, how old are you?" he asked tenderly. She rose to her full height. "I'll be thirteen in a couple months." She said proudly. "You're so full of life and energy. I can sense a certain auraabout you that only comes with youth and it gladdens me." he miled radiently at her."But you must learn to control this energy. You rush through things that need to occur naturally."

Megan licked her lips and looked down at the ground. "Oh no, don't be ashamed! You will learn to match natures pace with age. ' Life is like a fine wine, growing better with age.' In essence, Claire, have more faith in others, Megan, slow down and let things flow."

He looked now to the entire class, "And once you all get really good..." Brothe Paul's eyes sparkeled and he assumed an odd stance.

He swung his arms in a wide circle and all of the water from the fountain came out, soaring high in the air. He twisted his arms in a strange ,, structered way into several sdifferent shapes. He muttered words that seemed to be jibberish.

Suddenly, he reached outward as far s he could, straining ever muscle in his body like he told them not to do with water. Menar didn't understand what was happening. He, as well as the rest of the class, watched in amazment as the water took the form of a pheonix. It was so impossbly detailed, that Menar wondered if it was real. It maintained constant shape, quiet unlike water.

The phonix soared above their heads and passed nder the sun, seeming to ascend to the Pearly Gates, before Brothe Paul brought it back to the fountain. It hovered there as it slowly fell apart. It did not cry out in ppain. Before it completly returned to it's unanimated state, it spoke. "Good-bye." in Brother Paul's voice. He knew that Brother Paul himself didn't say a word, because he knew the voice came directly from the pheonix.

The pheonix was no more. Shortly after, water began to flow and cascade down the fountain again. Everone burst into converstaion. Megan and Clair e seemed to get over their brief friction. Menar sat quietly. His person favorite was, "Did you see that?" He believed the voice came from Percy. He laughed inwardly at the obvious answer.

Menar was enthralled, no doubt. It was just he had more self-control than the average person. One person even voiced the question that was burning in his head. "How did he do that?" Menar couldn't fathom Brother Paul's knowledge of magic. He was always so full of knowledge and wisdom.

" I know my time hads dwindled to only a few moment before you all head to dinner." As if on cue, the bell rang. "I want you all to think about you weaknessess and work on them, so you can become more well-rounded. You know I like to reward you for a job well done, especially after tests. As a treat, tommorrow, should you attend, you will all be rewarded with a lesson never before taught here, at the Sanctuary. We've already checked it through with the Coucil, so you leagalists don't need to worry." He grinned and stared at someone. Menar couldn't tell whom. "You are all dismissed."

He gave a deep, respectful bow. The class rose to their feet and headed to lnch. Menar just stood there until almost everyone was gone. He was about to speak when the girl who had cried walked up to Brothe Paul. I had a feeling you might stay Menar. In fact, I counted on it. You won't mind waiting a moment , will you?" Menar shook his head. "Not at all, sir." He realized, suddenly, the sun had almost completly set.

The sounds of the students echoed behind him, reverberating off the corridors so that it was difficult to tell how far along the halls the were. "Are you ready?" he asked tenderly. She glanced nervously at the door to the corridor where the students had disappeared. He could still faintly hear them. Brothe Paul swept his hand through the air and the doors closed.

"Can you do this for an audience of two, Bethany?" She looked at Menar and, catching his stare, immediatly looked at the ground. "I think so." she whispered. Menar's heart ached for her. "Just pretend you are alone, like that one day I found you doing that." He backed away to a respectful distance.

She stood there stiffly. Borther Paul motion for Menar to come beside him. Menar realized she must still be unnerved, so he quickly obeyed.

She continued to stand there for a while after he moved. Then, very slowly, she walked towards the fountain. She reminded Menar of a sleep walker. She never changed pace, but continued to move in that trance-like state.

The twilight pulled and streched their shadows. Hers almost reached them. The grass was beginning to glisten with dww. Stars had even begun to come out with the moon, giving the entire scene as sense of euphoria, an absence of reality.

She approached the large fountain and fell the her knees. She leaned agains it adn dipped her hand in the ater and appeared lost in thought. Nothing happened. Menar looked at Brother Paul after amoment. He didn't avert his eyes, though Menar knew he could see him. He turned his head to the fountain and gasped at the most incredible sight he had ever seen.

The water in the fountain glowed with luminous color, shifitng and changing hues in a glorious psychadellic manner. The dew on the grass began to change color too. The dw that surrounded her and the colorful fountain was divine, illuminating the entire courtyard against the coming night.

All three of them tood still like that for what seemed like a very long time. A flicker of tension passed her face. Suddenly, the water turned black. She pulled her hand out of the fountain and seemed to break out of the trance.

She crossed her arms and sat silently. "Beautiful, simply beautiful. I had you do this for a reason. Do you know why, Beth?" She looked at him. "Because I'm shy? Because I'm shy." She looked like she might break down again and stared at the ground.

"Not at all." She looked up, surprised. Menar couldn't help but feel a little surprised as well. "I organized this test for you, so that you can show to others that you are a uniqe, special person. I hope you already know that yourself." He stared at her.

She turned a shade of read to match the color of the fountain and grinned from ear to ear. "There you go! Now, off to dinner." "Yes, sir." "I ment me! But you go ahead. Eay your fill before I get there thought! Lord knows I'm iable to eat all the food!"

She smiled as she got up and ran to the door. Before she went inside, she hesitated. "Thank you, Brother." He bowed to her. She giggled and slipped inside. The echo of the door closing seemed loud in the quietness of the night. The fountain was the only thing that moved or made any sound, save for the crickets.

Finally, Brother Paul spoke. "You intregue me, Menar." Menar didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He felt the same about him. Brother Paul still hadn't removed his gaze from the door.

Menar waited for him to elaborate. He turned his head to him. "I noticed you, when I preformed the stunt with my pheonix. You have a way of standing out in a crowd. I was a little surprised you didn't react." Menar furrowed his brow when he said 'my pheonix.' "Yes, I was meaning to ask you how did you do that? That went beyond water magic. It seemed like....I'm not sure."

Brother Paul nodded in understaning. "Water combined with Spirit magic. It requires a great deal of knowledge of both. Spirit magic is the only one of the Five Core Elements that can fuse easily with any of them. I probably should have given them the false hope that they can do that with Water magic alone, but you should always have hope."

He began to pace again, Menar followed at his side. "Earth, water, fire, and air are more difficult to combine, but they make up everything." He expanded his arms in a cosmic sense, streaching them past the heavens. "Surely you know this from you acedmics and studies?" "Yes, it's just tha I've though such creations were above us, the creations of a higher power."

Brother Pual laughed. "Menar, you are so intelligent, yet you have somuch to learn. We are given domain! The ability to take and give, to create and destroy! Anyhting is possible with knowledge."

"But you didn't just Connect, you spoek! Before you made the pheonix!" He looked at Menar. "Even through the excitement you saw that? You're an observant fellow...." he muttered. "Yes, I did. That was my Animal Guardian."

Menar looked up at the sky. It was beautiful. "I've never heard of such a thing." Brother PUal shrugged. "I wouldn't doubt it. Besides, only certain, select people know what theirs are. I had to go through a great ordeal to discover mine..." he fell silent, lost inthought. Menar brooded over what he had said. He sensed that he had reached all the answers he would recieve from that question.

"What about the girl, Beth? How did she know how to do that with the fountain?" he asked. Brother Paul looked at the fountain. "I can tell by your tone that you know the answer already." Menar voiced his opinion. "I don't think she did know how."

Brother Paul smiled. "Very intuitive. Of course she didn't." "Then how?" asked Menar, more curious now than ever. "Emotion." Brother Paul said simply. "You saw the way she forgot about us and drifted into her own conciousness. What she did is not somehting you can practice, but it is a glorious thing. I was afraid she woudn't able to this time. That's why I dwindled the crowd down to you and I. If I was wrong that you would stay, I would just watch her myself. It looks like you lucked out."

"But I digress. Emotion gives everything life, animation, if you will. it personafies everything in reflection of your emotion. Didn't you see how when the water truned dark?" Menar recalled very well.

"I'll bet she was thinking about something regreattable that happened to her, and tried to pull away from those memories." Menar said. "And I'll bet on a bet that you're right. Strange, unpredictable thingscan happn when you Connect so deeply with magic, and, yet, not so unpredictable."

(Too rapid a transition) "Well, thank you Brother Paul. I'll be going now, so I won't miss my dinner. Will you be joining me?" Brother paul shook his head and looked up at the nearly full moon. "Not tonight. I've got to go and take care of soe things. Eat well." Menar waved good-bye and headed towards the Dining Hall.

Menar walked through the corridors alone. He could already smell the food. He wrinkled his nose and felt sick. He wasn't sure what it was, but he didn't feel particuarly hungary for it.

Instead, Menar pivoted and turned towards the boys' dormatory wing. It didn't take him long to get there. When he did, he sung open th door and shut it quickly. He blinked. The darkness was almost complete, except for a thing, silvery spotlight cast down by the moon upon his bed, beckoning him to it.

He didn't realize how tired he was before. He stripped to his undergarments and slipped under the covers. The sounds of the night orchistrated him a lullibye and sang him into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Dreadful Dreams

_Chapter Two_

_**Dreadful Dreams**_

Menar was running. His legs pumped furiously - almost as fast as his heart. He couldn't understand the fear that fueled him, but he knew it was nessicary if he had a chance to escape. Wait, escape? He looked back and understood why he was running, but he took no pleasure from the discovery. Fire and carnage reigned the once peaceful streets where he spent his childhood. Broken homes spilled piles of rubble on the cobblestone, heart-wrenching debries of shattered memories-shattered worlds.

That wasn't all that Menar saw, no. Torrents of blood from numorous innocents trickled into the gutters, and grotesque creatures stormed the town, tearing apart everything in sight. Buildings, homes, people- it didn't matter. Everything was burning, a monsterous collague of hellish art.

He sprinted past the the living, dead ,and dying. Others took no notice of him, they dispersed in all directions from the awsome evil that held their reality with clenched fists, distorting it with the same unconcievable malice as it did with these strange creatures.

He saw several men in black walking with some of the patrolling guards around the city. Each man in black smiled wicked grins as they commanded the guards to do their bidding. The guards complied with expressionless faces and empty eyes, brainwashed by the sorcerers. He felt completly detached. Menar's only connection to this morbid new world was fear. But it was a strong connection, enough to keep him tethered to this impossible place that he once knew.

Menar sprinted past platoons of soldiers on the armor was black as well and shining, somehow similiar, but different from the sorcerers, whose dark robes seemed to absorb light. They drew their swords as he passed, but did not attack him. They actually smiled at him. They raised their swords high in the air, but Menar couldn't tell wether or not it was a prepratory attack, or a strange salute. Menar tried endlessly to run past them, but there was no end to the chaos.

He ducked into an ally for refuge. He suddenly noticed that something was lurking in the shadows. He was about to turn and run when he realized that it was his friends and classmates crouched together. He screamed frantically at them to run, but they were oblivious to his desprate cries. Their minds and bodies had been broken by fear, the same fear that gripped the town, seemingly the entire world.

Menar whirled around to face only darkness, but it wasn't at all like darkness. It was alive and growing. Menar turned back to his friends. They were sobbing hysterically now. Their skin began to desintigrate, but they didn't cry out in pain, because it became one with the darkness, promising relief from all of this, extending the same promise to Menar, too. It ate away his friends until nothing remained of them. Nothing but dust and bones.

Fury filled Menar, and with that he found the strength to fight. He had nothing left to lose. His memories, his friends,- everything except his life had been destroyed. He screamed, spewing flames from his palms.

He felt his anger swell rapidly inside him, exploding from his fingertips in a brilliant, glorious fire. Even though he felt more in tune with the energy of Fire than he was certain anyone had, he could feel his body expending enormous amounts of energy with each gigantic flame burst. But the darkness hardly shrank, and was far from surrender.

Menar doubted that he could win, but he knew that he must try, or else his last memory, the only one that wouldn't remain broken, would be an act of cowardice. He couldn't live _or_ die with that on his soul.

As if on cue with the realization, the ally became a platform with nothing but flames and darkness below him, threatening to envelop him at any moment. Menar could feel everything within him screaming in protest of this enitity and of his strenous efforts, but he never experienced this kind of understanding or exhiliration of magic. The magic seemed feed off of it's own energy as well as his own.

He recognized defeat as a great possibility now, but he didn't intend to die easily. His only purpose now, was to fight for everything that was stolen from him. He wanted to inflict the same pain, if not more, upon this entity. He felt the magic flowing through him, expelling in a blaze of fire. Nothing mattered anymore except the death of this darkness, not even his own life.

The magic was rapidly depleting all the energy in his body. He could feel the darkness somehow offering a truce, promising him an eternal peace if he surrendered. He could feel his limbs go numb, threatenening to collapse. Suddenly, he couldn't move. The darkness swirled around him, creating a tornado that lifted him from the ground. He Willed the air around him to resist, but to no avail. Everything was in control of the darkness, belonged to the darkness - _was _the darkness.

He could feel his body go limp. The darkness continued to swirl, trying to rip him apart as he went spiraling into the dark and flames below him. As he shot towards the fiery oblivion, he caught a glimpse of his friends laughing above him, perfectly fine, but horribly deformed, just like the creatures that destroyed the town.

He shot bolt upright in his bed, out of the darkness and into the light of day. His heart was racing wildly, his adrenaline still pumping. He knew it was a dream, because he had been having the dream for the past week, and each time it was even more vivid-even more terrifying. He was beginning to fear sleep. Menar rubbed his eyes. _Just a dream _he thought.

In the stillness of the morning, it was peaceful. It was always nice in the Sanctuary, and Menar could hardly imagine living anywhere else. The homes that the poor lived in were substandard, and amassed most of the city. As horrible as it sounded, he didn't think he belonged in one of those homes anyways.

Someone scuffled their feet outside in the hallway. Still shaking sleep, Menar arose from his bed, streched, then headed down to breakfast. His footsteps echoed the near-empty halls, mesmerizingly so. The labryinth of corridors that would surely confuse any visitor, he navigated half-mindedly, recollecting the odd dream that he had. It was difficult to push away and just about as difficult to remember.

He wasn't sure how long he had been walking, before he realized Megan was walking behind him. He tried to quicken his pace, but it was too late for that. Before long, she was walking beside of him. He didn't feel like dealing with an infatuated young girl right now.

So, he pretended to be daydreaming. That is, until he could not help but notice her, even though he was trying not to. "Oh, hello Megan." She grinned, "Hello, Menar. How are you doing?" "I'm not sure, yet." She grinned a little wider. "So, the big festival is coming up." She twirled her hair innocently. Menar stopped himself from rolling his eyes. After a brief pause, he nodded curtly. "Yes." Another pause. "Well, are you thinking about taking anyone?" she asked as if it should be obvious that he should ask a certain someone.

A bird suddenly swooped down in front of them from one of the many glassless windows. "Oh! That's a sparrow! I think that is supposed to mean love is in the air." Menar furrowed his brow. "Really? I thought it was a pigon." She laughed. "Oh, Menar, you're so silly. Hey, about the festival, I was wondering if...I mean, if you're not going with anyone..." Menar braced himself for the question and the reprecussions of his iminent answer, but he wasn't braced for what happened next. Suddenly, someone hopped on Menar's back and almost pushed him into the wall. "Too distracted by the pretty girls to notice me, eh?" Menar shrugged off his aggressor and turned to face Vaxel, his best friend.

"Hey! Good to see you! I thought you weren't coming back until later today!" Vaxel smiled. "Good to see you too, boy. I left early so I could come down here and see what's going on." "Same stuff, different day."

Megan smiled with them, but it was painfully forced. "Oh, hey there Vaxel. I guess we'll talk later then, Menar. Good-bye." She turned on her heels and left briskly. "Thanks, I owe you one." Vaxel shook his head. "I don't think you should be making moves on girls _that _young, but I guess everyone has got to have a little love, even if it's from creepy old pervs like yourself." Menar couldn't help but grin as they walked into the Dining Hall.

After they had attained their breakfast, they sat down in their usual spot, the last table in the bottom corner. "So," said Vaxel with a mouthful of potatoes and pork, "Besides hitting on thirteen year old girls, what's new here?" Menar frowned. "Nothing really, it's been kind of boring without you and your tom-foolery here for the past week."

Menar rubbed his forehead, "She's been gawking at me since she was admitted here about a month ago, but she just recently started talking to me. I'm not even sure how she managed to get in. You know as well as I why most of the people are here, and we've know them most of our lives." He shook his head and picked at his salad. "I've been meaning to ask, how did your Crusader test go?" Vaxel smiled. "Wonderful! I'm going to be dubbed," he struck a regal pose. "into Knighthood a few days after the Halloween Festival. You'll get your chance in about...let's see." He paused and put down his fork and knife. Menar nibbled on a salad leaf while he thought.

"You're seventeen, right?" Menar couldn't hide his smirk. "You haven't already memorized my birthday? I'm hurt. We've been friends for over a decade now." he teased. Vaxel sneered, "I was just trying to think of how old you were. I can't memorize everything." Menar coughed. "Hey! I'm still eating that!" Vaxel protested, pulling back his food. "Well, how many times does three go into one hundred thirty two?" Vaxel made a face. "Now why would I want to know that? How will that fact _ever_ help me in life? Anyways, you know I hate math. I specialized in Fire, so math won't matter too much-I'll be going in as a soldier."

Menar swallowed the salad in his mouth as Vaxel ate some bread. "What specific branch." Vaxel tore his bread in half and stuffed one half in his mouth. "Intensive fire. They said I have good stamina and quality to it, so I definately won't need," he snickered. "math." Logistics, rations,-you'll need math for a lot of things. That is, if you expect to be an officer one day." He shook his head. "I don't really care about all that junk. I just want to fight and get paid." Menar shook his head in turn, finishing his plate before he spoke. "You should care. Other than me, no one else will, and I can't be there for you all the time- you've got to figure some things out for yourself."

Vaxel pushed away about a fourth of his food. "I never was book smart like you. You, my friend, study too much." "And you, my friend, do not study enough." replied Menar.

They dumped their trash in the garbage chute. Menar scowled at the wasted food, but said nothing. "Let's go to the Learning Courtyard, Brother Paul is going to teach us another lesson today." Vaxel rolled his eyes and scuffed his heels. "Yeah, like I said, you study too much. You know, you don't have to go to _all _of the lessons. As long as you pass the test you're fine. I didn't go to all of them."

Menar shrugged. "And just look how you turned out, but that's fine with me. You know I never miss a _reward _lesson." Vaxel nodded. "Okay, I'm listening. What's the lesson?"

Menar spun around to face him. "Something that you never covered in _your _training. Brother Paul says it just passed from the Council." He continued walking. Vaxel laughed. "Sure, I'll bet! The Councils' doesn't usually involve themselve with school activites, unless it's..." They turned left. Sunlight spilled out of the end of the corridor and the courtyard lay just ahead. "Dangerous." finished Menar. "Besides, I don't know what it is yet either, but I'm sure we will find out soon enough."

That was one of the many things about the Sanctuary that Menar liked. All of the points of interest were grouped close together, unlike the shops in town. All of the luxury shops were clustered together all over the town, but all of the nessicary shops were scattered. Like the general goods stores and clothing stores. They were at completly different parts of town. Even then, the clothing stores always placed things like shoe polishers and formal wear in the front and left the casual clothes in the back. Even the grocery stores always placed things like bread, eggs, and milk in the back, leaving the candy and accessiories in the front. He wondered if other people noticed these things. Vaxel probably wouldn't.

The sun was warm on their skin and the grass was cool and damp as they both sat in the semi-circle of pupils around the meditating priest. The silence within the courtyard amplified everyday noises. Birds chirped, people were talking in the distance- Menar even faintly heard the shops in town beginning to open, salesmen ranting. "Good morning, class." said Brother Paul.

"Good morning, Brother Paul." the class droned. "Today is an exciting day. Thanks to the efforts of the staff, we are able to begin a lesson today never before attempted by trainees." he paused, allowing anticipation to build. "That, would be Manafesting." Several eyebrows raised, including Menar's. Even a few gasps were heard.

Vaxel leaned over to Menar, "Pretty cool I'll admit." Brother Paul stood up. "Now, before we begin, we must assess the dangers. Believe it or not, it also relatively simple. Essentially, it was ruled as dangerous, because the Council did not believe that trainees retained the proper maturity level to attempt this spell, but we believe differently." he looked at them intently. "Please do not prove the staff wrong." Then, he was gone, vanished into thin air. "The dangers of this spell," everyone looked to the roof, where he was slowly pacing, "Are really not so bad. The worst case scenario, is that you manifest somewhere other than where you intended or you lose a limb."

He disappeared again, but this time, his voice did not fill the courtyard. "There he is!" someone in the back shouted, pointing to the sky, clearly alarmed. The class looked up at the sky, shocked. He was falling. Actually, he was too far away to be distinguished, but Menar couldn't imagine anyone else falling from the sky at the moment.

A few tense moments passed before he disappeared and reappeared in his origional position in the center of the class. For a moment, the winds of the sky seemed to still be ruffling his robes before they settled around him. "However," he said as the class murmured. "You will not manifest so far from your desired location that you will be falling from the sky, as I did. Unless you try that is, and I do implore you not to. It all depends on your experience and how far you try to go. The farther you go and the less experienced you are, the more unpredictable."

"You will only be manifesting a few feet today. About losing limbs," the class murmured again. "You will only _lose _them. They are not severed, and you will feel no pain. I can remedy that easily if that happens. I am required to inform you that if you participate, it is voluntary. Remember, your magic is only as strong as your Will and knowledge of the core element you are practicing in. The element associated with this spell is Air. Please do not attempt this if you feel that you lack the proper knowledge of Air." Menar look around as well as the rest of the class to see if anyone rose to leave, because Air was universally the simplest Core element. As he expected, no one left. "Very well. You may begin." The class began to disperse.

"Vaxel, may I see you a moment?" he called. Vaxel sighed. Menar stayed a respectable distance from Vaxel and the teacher, waiting to see if he needed a new partner. "Vaxel, I know that you are no longer offically a student," he began to lecture. "But if you choose to participate with the rest of the class, I must assume that you are my personal student. Do I have you word that you will behave? Because it will fall upon my head if you do not." Brother Paul looked at him with a straight face. However, Vaxel couldn't resist a grin.

"Come on, you know me, Brother." Brother Paul broke into a smile and chuckled. "Yes, and that is what I am worried about." "You have my word." Brother Paul flickered his eyes to Menar. "Good luck you two." he expanded his voice. "I'll be here meditating if anyone needs me." Brother Paul sat back down in the grass and closed his eyes as Menar and Vaxel found their own spot.

"Let's get down to the magic," Vaxel said enthusiastically, jumping up and down. "I'll go first." said Menar. "Okay, but the first one to do it from here," Vaxel pointed to a fountain near a corner of the Learning Courtyard. "to that fountain wins." Menar nodded, "You're on."

Menar calmed himself and glared at the fountain a moment, then closed his eyes, trying to burn the picture of it into his memory. He tried to recall Brother Paul's lessons from the Five Core Elements. Earth, Water, Air, Fire, and Spirit, sepecifically, Air. Unlike many of his peers, he understood, truely understood, that almost all spells did not rely solely on one element.

'Air,' thought Menar. He inhaled deeply, drawing it in, trying to become one with it. He focused on becoming clear, calm, and steady, just like the wind. He was felt like something was going to happen, and he didn't want to lose that feeling. He intiensified his focus on himself, still gazing at the mental picture. Suddenly, he felt wieghtless, but only for a split second. Then, everything sounded...well, _moved_. He opened his eyes. He saw it, for the second time today.

The courtyard was filled with his classmates disentigrating, exactly like in his dream. They didn't disappear as suddenly as Brother Paul did, but they were actually falling apart to tiny, black, dust-like particles. His dream came back to him in a flash, this time, it seemed to be stronger than ever, as if seeing it in reality made it concrete.

He gasped and fell on all fours, feeling the sting of tears on his horrified eyes. '_What was that?'_ he thought adrenaline fueling his racing thoughts. He put his head on the dewy ground, trying to make the soft ground sink all of those bad thoughts in his head to the center of the earth, buried forever. He could hear Vaxel walking up to him and laughing. "Wow, you did it on your first try! You even disappeared like Paul did!" Menar heard him stop. "Hey, don't get sick all over the ground, you'll scare the others." He looked up at Vaxel, shaking with tears falling down his face.

Menar was vaugely aware that Brother Paul rushing over. "Hey, why are you crying?" asked Vaxel concern chasing away all playfulness. Brother Paul helped Menar up. "You did well. Come with me and we will get you straightened up. No need to be frightened, you're fine."

Menar noticed that everyone was looking at them. Brother Paul did as well. "Don't worry, it's just a little frightening when you manage to do it right for the first time. I'll be right back."

Everyone resumed thier magic, nervously, as they began to walk away. "Vaxel, stay here with the others and make sure nothing happens. If someone needs me, come and get me." Vaxel stopped. "But-" "Vaxel, you gave me your word. Now please, go." Menar spoke shakily, "I'll be fine. It's just nerves. You go ahead. I'll-I'll see you at dinner."

Vaxel clenched his jaw. "See you at dinner." Then he walked away. Brother Paul helped Menar sit down on a bench a short distance from the courtyard. "I'm fine, Brother. Honest," Brother Paul watched the others, and it was a while before he spoke.

"I know you Menar. During the years that I have worked with you, I discovered that you are an extraordinary student. You excel in magic, academics-everything I have seen you do. You have the natural ability to explore the things that I can not teach. Things that you must explore for yourself that most others can not. Like you just demonstrated, you have a knack for doing things done properly on your first try, something I have witnessed in very few of my students. I know you Menar."

He turned his head and looked Menar in the eye. "And that was not like you. You aren't afraid of magic, you embrace it, and there is nothing about that spell that would frighten you." He paused, making it obvious that Menar should speak. He couldn't match Brother Paul's omniscent gaze any longer. He looked out into the courtyard, and instantly regretted it.

The memory of the dream flashed before his eyes yet again. Except, it wasn't like remembering, it was something completely different-it scared him. He gripped the arm of the bench and looked away. "What was that?" asked Brother Paul. He knew that Brother Paul had sensed it. "I don't know," replied Menar. "I just have been having some odd dreams lately." He could see from his the corner of his eye that Brother Paul looked out into the courtyard again. "Dreams? What kind of dreams?"

Menar shook his head. "I don't really want to talk about it. I don't think that I could explain it anyways." Brother Paul scratched his head. "I can see your dream first-hand, if I have your permission." Menar looked at him. "Why do you need my permission?" Brother Paul returned his attention to Menar.

"Because, technically, it is considered an unlawful search. But as a person, it is considered immoral." Menar nodded. "You have my permission then." Brother Paul pulled back the sleeves of his robe and fixed Menar with an entrancing stare. "I must also warn you, you must open your mind to me, or it will be more difficult to enter your memories." He paused. "Since it is not a concious memory, you will have to relive it."

Menar took a deep breath, showing him that he was ready. He then dropped Brother Paul's gaze to stare at the floor. Soon, it began to melt, and along with it, reality. It formed again to make a cobblestone street, but he was still on the bench. Screams and the scent of blood filled the air. "Remember Menar, do not close your mind to it, nothing can happen to you in a memory. Just look down."

He did look down for most of the memory, until he heard himself screaming. He looked up and saw himself, fighting the darkness once again. He lowered his eyes once more. Shortly after he heard his friends laughing, Brother Paul broke the connection.

The meniacle laughter of his friends, was instantly replace by the care-free laughter of his classmates, who no longer seemed affected by Menar's strange reaction. Brother Paul seemed shocked. "Ah, yes. That certainly was...strange. I understand you don't scare easily, but I can see why you were frightened to see your classmates Manafesting."

"Let me ask you one question," Brother Paul looked at him with the same seriousness as he looked at Vaxel. "And answer me truthfully, Menar. Have you ever seen this symbol?" He drew a symbol into the ground, using Earth magic to etch it.

He waited until Brother Paul was finished. "No," Menar said. Then he looked at it closer. "Wait, yes I did. Some of the black robed men in my dream had that insignea on their chest, and the soldiers in armor. Why? What does it mean?"

Brother Paul looked at him gravely. "Have you told anyone of your dream?" Menar shook his head. "No, like I said, I couldn't explain it. What was that symbol?" "Good. Tell no one of it, at least not for now. Do you understand me?"

Menar just stared at him. Brother Paul was always fun with his lessons- so laid-back. He never saw him like this before unless he was chastizing a student, and he usually wasn't too serious about it then.

"Do you understand?" Brother Paul repeated. "Yes." Brother Paul nodded and began to walk back to the courtyard. "Go rest then, and go to the the Headmaster's office after dinner tonight." Menar's eyes widened.

In all of years of training, he had never been sent to the Headmaster's office, and in the rare event that it happened, people knew why they were there and got out as soon as possible. Headmaster Ulrik was the figurehead of the Sanctuary, of almost three hundred trainees and staff members.

Menar was instructed since his arrival, that the Headmaster had not the time nor patience for petty squabble. He was not someone to be sent to without just cause either, and so far, he hadn't done anything to require him to go, and to go on the account of a dream was hardly deserving. Menar had never even seen him up close. How would he even present himself?

Menar's mind reeled, unbelieving. '_It's just a dream,_' he thought. Curiosity was eating him away now. "What did that symbol mean?" Brother Paul stopped, hesitated, then turned to face him. "Heartless."


	3. Chapter 3: Startling Secrets

_Chapter Three_

_**Startling Secrets**_

Menar still couldn't believe it. He knew that his nightmares were unusual, but he didn't think they were all that special. Heartless. What was that? He definately had never heard of it before, or seen the odd symbol. Now, sitting in his room, he sketched the symbol as best as he could from what Brother Paul showed him and from what he could recollect from his dream.

It looked a litte strange, but nothing that deserved total awe. Maybe the ruinic writing around it had something to do with it, but he couldn't remember the shapes or decipher them anyways. '_Can I look back into his own memories? Like Brother Paul did and write them down_?'. He chewed on his pen, contemplating.

Using magic could have unexpected consequences, especially if he lacked the knowledge of how to do it and even more so on himself. Conducting Spirit magic, possibly the most difficult branch of magic, was a dangerous thing, but also very powerful. He shook his head and decided against it.

Even in the unlikely event that he was successful, he couldn't find the meaning of the runic symbols if he tried. Lessons in Spirit magic were rare at the Sanctuary, not only because it's dangerous, but because it manipulates the body. The administration admonished most of spirit magic lessons from the basic facilities and only taught it to those whose profession, within the Crusaders of course, relied upon it. The most he had ever done with Spirit magic, was Illusion magic. They made themselves appear in doubles that day. He thoroughly enjoyed himself that day. Menar beamed at the memory.

He glanced at his bedside timecandle, and saw that dinner was almost over. He wanted to arrive late to dinner so that he wouldn't have to try and explain to Vaxel what had happened. He looked at the paper and decided against keeping his sketch of the symbol. After all, in an unexplainable way, he knew it already.

He create a small flame to burn the paper and stirred a breeze to blow the ashes out the window using magic. Fire was one of his first lessons. He was so excited, that he tried to memorize Brother Paul's lesson. He thought about it, too, on his way to dinner.

"Fire is energy, and energy is infinite and all around us, waiting to be used. However, there are two ways to create fire, from the energy around you, and the energy within you. While the flame within you is more powerful, it is closely linked with passion or anger, which causes carlessness. If you draw it from the energy around you, then it is more controlled. You must find balance between your sources to enhance it and develop into it's most powerful state."

He rounded a corner and bumped into a girl, making her drop her books. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. Menar bent down immediately to pick up the books. "Oh, no, that was completely my fault! I was just thinking and not paying attention. I'm sorry."

He read the titles of the books as he picked them up. _The Oricle_, _Torrent, Nether Regions, _and another book he picked up too fast too read. He straightened himself up to looked at her and felt his face turn red. It was Claire Crawford. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen at the Sanctuary, and she seemed to have the personality to match as well.

"That was my- I'm sorry." she stuttered. Menar caught himself gaping before she noticed. "Um, I was going to ask you if..." his mind went blank. She took the books from him. '_Come on, you look like and idiot standing here after you just bumped into her.' _his mind raced. "If you were alright."

He breathed a sigh of relief, silently commending himself. "What? Yes, I'm fine. Menar, right?" He nodded. "Yeah." "I've seen you around in some classes. You seem pretty smart, but you are just so shy." '_Just in front of you._' he thought. He couldn't believe she noticed him-even remembered his name!

"Since this our first offical meeting, I'm Claire." She extended her hand. He placed his hand in hers, feeling light headed at her touch, and smiled. "Menar." he shook her hand gently.

"Say, we should meet up sometime and get a chance to know each other. Well, I'll see you later, I've got to go and do some things. Nice meeting you! Bye!" she waved as she headed down the hall. "Bye, Claire!" he called after her.

He turned, with a spring in his step, and walked to the Dining Hall, too excited to eat. Which was just as well, because the cooking staff were closing up anyways. He didn't even notice Vaxel, who was getting up from their usual spot.

"Where were you? I waited for ages!" Menar stared at him absently. "Accidents happen." he said happily. Vaxel's face grew a shade of red. "Accident? What accident? I worried myself to half-to-death over you since this afternoon! You promised to be here."

Menar brought himself around, remembering the afternoon. "Yes, I'm here." he said, letting Claire slip into the back of his thoughts, which was not easy for him. Vaxel folded his arms. "Let's walk and talk." They began walking in the direction opposite of where Menar accidentally bumped into Claire. "What happened?"

Menar put his hands over his head and exhaled loudly. He didn't want to try to explain what he couldn't explain. "I'm not really sure. It was just wierd." he dropped his hands. "I'm going to find out when I go to the Headmaster's office tonight."

Vaxel shot Menar a disbelieving look. "Shouldn't they send you to the school Healer for that kind of thing? You probably passed out and started crying when you woke up because you were scared or something. I don't know, that's what Healers' are for." Menar shook his head.

"There's nothing wrong with me, it's just-" he stopped himself from saying any more, recalling his promise to Brother Paul. Vaxel turned his attention to Menar. "'Just' what?" Menar kicked the wall next to him lightly. He didn't normally keep secrets from Vaxel, and he didn't like it. "I don't know." he half-lied, "I suppose I'll find out pretty soon, because I'm supposed to head down that way now."

Menar suddenly realized he didn't know where the Headmaster's office was. He was so amazed that he was going, that he had forgotten he didn't know where to go. "Hey, where is the Headmaster's office anyways?" "I'll show you. Follow me." Vaxel turned right. "We are pretty close to it. I don't know why you're being sent to the Headmaster though." Menar pushed Vaxel. "I'm special that's why."

Vaxel laughed. "Special? You must be losing your mind! They are probably going to send you to the loony bin!" He suddenly turned serious, which was uncharacteristic for Vaxel, because he was always so playful. "That's enough. We are almost there now."

"Wait, how do you know where it is?" Vaxel popped his knuckles. "Because, I was sent there once. Don't believe any rumors you heard about him," he shook his head, "They aren't true. I've heard what most of the kids say. He's actually very nice. He just has a certain," he paused, searching for the right words, "aura about him." Vaxel began to whisper.

"I got sent there," they stopped outside a door, similar to all of the others in the Sanctuary. Menar didn't even recognize where he was. "Because I knew who stole a teacher's Truth Potion, but I wouldn't tell anyone. He told me to tell me who stole it, or I would be punished in his place, as plain and simple as that." Menar whistled quietly.

"Obviously, I told. Luckily, the kid, Andrew Nickleson, wasn't Purged. The Headmaster actually gave him a Truth Telling Potion, but not in a good way. He made him take one that lasted for a whole day. He kept blurting out all sorts of embarassing stuff!" Vaxel had to stifle a laugh.

"But we aren't supposed to say anything about it. Some of the things he said are why we aren't friends anymore, but Headmater Ulrik really isn't all that bad. Let you get to it then. Good luck!" Menar watched him until he was out of sight. "_Yeah, thanks_." he thought.

Slowly, reluctantly, he turned to the Headmaster's door, eyeing it like it might come alive and eat him. It wasn't any different from the other doors, but it did seem to have a subtle quality, like it was hiding something. He tenderly grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open, not sure what he should be expecting.

The first thing he saw were books. Tons of books. He entered the room and looked around him in awe. More books, and shelves of odd trinkets. It was amazing. Books and trinkets in wooden shelves, glass cases, on the floor-everywhere. The only thing that didn't have books and trinkets all over it was a desk, which had a quill, inkwell, and parchment on it.

The thing that held the majority of his attention though, was the Headmaster, holding the quill, dipping it in the inkwell, and writing on the parchment. The Headmaster did seem intimidating, but maybe that was just his imagination. He didn't look up at Menar's presence, but he could clearly see a jagged scar on the side of his face, running across his cheek.

The only thing that seemed to be true about the rumors he had heard, _was_ the scar. He didn't know what to do, so he just stood there, glancing at his scar and looking around him. He tried not to look at his scar, mainly because he knew it was impolite, but he couldn't help it.

Headmaster Ulrik raised his eyes to Menar. He could feel his heart skip a beat. The color of his right eye, nearest the scar, was milky white. "Ah, hello, Menar. How are you?" Menar fidgeted, "Good I guess."

The Headmaster interlaced his fingers and just stared at Menar, who no longer found a problem looking at his scar, but looked him in the square in the eye. "Good, I'm glad you are doing fine. Brother Paul has told me of your incident this afternoon and showed me the dreams that you have been having."

Menar scratched the back of his neck. "I don't usually think of things that morbid. I told Brother Paul that I don't know why I've been having those sort of things in my mind." Headmaster Ulrik got up and walked to a nearby shelf, grazing his fingers over the spines of the books, and pulled out two of them.

"I had to brush up on my reading before our meeting. Knowledge is power, remember that Menar. Although I'm sure you already know that, because I hear that you are a wonderful student. Brother Paul speaks very highly of you."

Menar smiled an embarassed smile. "I'll be sure to thank him." The Headmaster smiled back. "But I digress." he held up one of the books, "Spirit is a very difficult thing to understand. It deals primarily with the human body, which, in itself, is complex, especially the mind. This book, is called _Mind_ _Power_ and was written by Archemedies Irugarde, a late 1300's professor."

He put the book down. "I have reviewed your dream many times with Brother Paul from his second hand memories, and it is, indeed, very unusual. This book says that reocurring and vivid dreams such as this, fortell the future. Especially if it reveals knowledge that was not avalable to the person."

"But," Menar hesitated. "I'm sorry, can I say something?" The Headmaster smiled, "Say whatever you want, you don't have to ask my permission." Menar smiled back nervously and let it fade. "How could that be the future? I don't have psychic powers, and in the end of my dream, I was fighting something that wasn't really even...fightable."

The Headmaster nodded. "It's possible that you may have psychic powers. I don't know. But this dream _is_ unusal and powers develop at around your age. I've known one myself who did move on to become psychic, you know him yourself." Menar furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "Brother Paul?"

"Yes, and from what he sensed, you were having visions yourself when you saw you friends Manafesting. There are things that you do not know Menar, but will discover tonight, that will make the dream make more sense to you."

Menar shook his head. He understood now, and didn't doubt it at all, how Brother Paul could tell when someone was about to act up and why he was always meditating. Nevertheless, Menar had a hard time believing it, and he didn't belive for a moment that he could psychic.

"So, am I psychic?" he asked skeptically. Headmaster Ulrik shrugged. "Brother Paul said he sensed the same kind of paranormal experience that you had that he experienced when he was about your age. Brother Paul said that he would look into your dream further tomorrow. If you're dream does fortell the future, then it could really help us in the future." "Us? Help?" inquired Menar. Headmaster Ulrik rocked slowly, "The Crusader organization."

"Now, I believe that the thing, the darkness, you were fighting, was a combination of all your fears, and the Heartless." Menar perked. "Yes, I've been meaning to ask, what is Heartless? Why did Brother Paul act so different when he mentioned them?"

Headmaster Ulrik held up the second book. "This is one of my most valuable books." He spread his arms wide and gazed at his library. Menar grasped a concept of how valuable it was. He wouldn't doubt there were some in here worth a good heap of gold.

"It is called _History of the Heartless._" The Headmaster pointed to a chair. "Sit down, because this may take a while." Menar pulled the seat out of the piles of books that had lain seige to it and placed it in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"This book, tells the history of the Heartless, though the time and author are unknown. They are a cult that seeks to dominate the world using black magic to annoint their three founders, Sithilus, Azuala, and Crual, as the leaders of their own, twisted New World order."

The Headmaster opened the book and looked down at it's elegant printed pages and colorful illustrations. "One moment, let me find it." Menar mulled over his thoughts. "Why am I learning about all of this, Headmaster?"

The Headmaster waved his hand in the air. "Just call me Ulrik, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other later and I don't think we need the formalities when we are already aquainted." Menar was shocked.

He didn't expect to see the Headmaster more than this one time, or call him by anything other than Headmaster, since it was what he usually called him when he spoke of him."When you envisioned them, then you automatically invovled yourself in these matters. Tonight, it is even more obvious to me that you are destined for great things."

He flipped a few pages. "So, you've been monitoring me even before today?" "Yes, you're one of the best students in the school, and..." "And what?" Ulrik rubbed his forehead. "You'll find out tonight."

"Okay, then, But if my dream is to come true, why do they attack the city? And furthermore, shouldn't we evacuate it, send soldiers, or something?" Ulrik tapped a page. "Found it, and to answer your question, we don't have any proof to present for a city-wide emergency."

He turned the book to face Menar. "This is their symbol. The book says, the symbol was carved into a talisman by the three sorcerers and served as a Powerwell. Powerwells grant awsome magical powers, but it takes a great cost to make them, and there are different kinds. This talisman, was the first, and only, successful combination of the Five Core Elements."

"Supposively, they had to sacrifice thier most prized possession. Not anything material, but their souls, so that they could never find peace in this life or the next. But these three, they could never lead a decent life, just one of emptiness, constantly feeding a void that can never be filled, and so they are left with only momentary satisfaction."

"They all hope to gain immortality, power, and wealth. However, they were so blinded by thier greed," he looked to Menar. "They tried to use the talisman to ascend to demi-Gods and a demi-Godess." He traced his hand across the image. Suddenly, the pictures came into motion, showing the story.

"Pretty neat, huh?" he chuckled "I have seen few books that have moving pictures, because few have the knowledge or skill to do it. Even I don't have a clue as to how it is done." Menar watched the figures.

"Since it was the first successful combination of the Core Elements, they thought that the talisman would be all-powerful, but they did not know the limits of their creation. While they did not ascend to become Gods, they were granted three abilites. Azuala was granted enhanced magical powers, Crual was granted enhanced fighting abilities, and Sithilus was granted Intelligence."

"Together, they decided to form the cult they named Heartless. With thier suprior magic, swordmanship, and knowledge, they posed a great threat to the world, but even they couldn't do it alone. They swear to thier followers a place in their New World if they help them- anything their hearts desired."

He closed the book. "And now they want to abolish anything that might stand in their way. That primarily includes the Crusaders. The Crusaders were orgainized, at first, as a movement against it. But, there was a period, about three hundred years, of inactivity, which broke about forty years ago, when they began attacking small towns. We believe they have been recruiting, preparing, and training during that inactive period."

"During the period of inactivity, the Crusaders were left without purpose, so we decided to follow our intentions and try to make the world a better place, though our military branch was dissolved. The Elites, a highly skilled militant branch, is an old one, though they focused their attention on the Heartless when thier insurgency was openly displayed. We've acted as personal soldiers' of the King. Although we were the first ones with this purpose, we serve under the King." Menar bit his lip thoughtfully. "I know that we were made to make the world a better place, but why haven't I ever heard of the Heartless? If what you say is true, then why hasn't anyone told us of the Crusader's origions? That seems tantamount to a lie."

Ulrik pulled a pipe from his desk. "Do you mind?" Menar shook his head. He lit it and puffed it, forming rings that went to the high cieling. "Some people know _of_ them, but it has been such a long time ago that few remember them, and those who do, think they are folklore. In the cities they've attacked, they do not display themselves as the Heartless. It's a tactical advantage really, the element of surprise." He snorted. "Pretty clever."

"As for the teachers, they probably wouldn't know anything about the Crusaders origions but what they think to be truth, though I understand your point. It isn't nessicary for them to know anyways, since it is not our own branch. It would be more difficult to convice the world anyways that what they think is a myth is factual, rather than let the 'myth' present it themselves. After all, many do not understand the difference between White magic and Dark."

"But we have had three hundred years to remind them that they exist! How could we forget our own purpose? Our own reason for existance?" Ulrik raised his eyes to the ceiling. "There are times when we all forget our purpose on this earth. Especially when we are not fufilling our purpose. But there is always something to come along and remind us."

Menar understood the wisdom in what he said, but he still didn't believe the Crusaders should have let it be this way for so long. "Wouldn't King Ramon know of all of this? Surely he could convince the public." Headmaster Ulrik leaned forward suddenly, as if he just remembered something. "Oh, Lord yes, my boy. There are hardly any secrets kept from the King, but if he started rambling like a lunatic of some long forgotten demonic cult then he would lose all of his credibility, and he is our greatest asset in fighting the Heartless, much more valuable than the public could be if they were convinced. It works in our favor too, it keeps peace with the public."

"But, why are you telling me all of this, things that citizens and many of the Crusaders do not even know? You said that the book is valuable, so it can't be common knowledge." "Mmm." hummed Ulrik. "It is common knowledge among those who fight the Heartless. Just because it is valuable, doesn't nessicarily mean that it pertains to money. My father gave me this book after he retired from fighting them. Yes, it runs in the family." he smiled. "Every soldier who is trained to fight them is given a copy. You will likely be joining their ranks shortly after your Crusader Test. Your birthday is this Halloween, correct?"

He nodded. '_Wow,_' Menar thought, '_this man who I've never met knows my birthday, but Vaxel doesn't. He's been watching me for some time, too." _unprecidented suspicion prodded at Menar, "_Maybe he knows more about me than he's telling_.' He couldn't quiet say how, but he trusted his insticts. "How did Brother Paul know of the Heartless then? If only those who are in the Elite branch fight them?" Ulrik smiled. "He said that you were quick witted; I highly admire that. He accompanied me in battles against the Heartless, but that is a story for another time. He is very proficient, and that is why he is a teacher here at the Sanctuary."

Menar watched him puff his pipe, thinking about all he had learned. "It's still just a dream though, isn't it?" He wasn't sure if he really believed most of the people who claimed to be psychics were psychic, and didn't often ponder the extent of psychic abilities. Ulrik continued to puff his pipe, "I doubt it. Do you have any questions at this point?"

Menar nodded his head. "How do we know the book is even credible?"

Headmaster Ulrik raised his eyebrows. "There are too many truths about it to be discredited, just as there are too many truths about your dream, that even you did not know, to be discredeted. For example, the symbol."

Menar sneezed. "Excuse me, what truths? And what does that ruinic writing around it mean?" Menar remembered to add. Ulrik stood up and paced. "You have a very inquisitive mind. I like that. They were once the goals of the three leaders, but are now the three pillars of the cult, Immortality, Power, and Wealth, as I told you. Now, so you can find out who you truely are, I will show you a document. Do you know how you arrived here?" Menar was surprised at the irrelvant question. He hadn't considered it too often.

He grew up here, for as long as he could remember. Many of the children here were orphans, and he considered this his family. Since no one talked about any of their families, he didn't really think about his too much. "No, I hadn't really thought about it. I like it here." The Headmaster smiled and nodded. "Fair enough, but haven't you ever wondered about your parents?" Menar almost fell out of his chair in shock.

"No-they-the Sanctuary allows access to all birth records. What are you saying?" Menar scrutinized his face carefully. This went deep. He _did_ know more than he was telling. Ulrik reached into his desk again and pulled out a crumpled envelope. "This is a letter from your parents. I think that you would like this letter, but I must tell you some things that aren't in the letter before I can give it to you."

Menar didn't care what he had to do to get it. "Why? Why didn't I know about this as soon as I asked for my records? Why did they tell me I had none?" he was seething. '_How could they do this to me?_ ' he thought. The Headmaster closed his eyes and laid down his pipe. "Because, this was never recorded. I have been the only one to read it."

"Your father, Estan Bolivar was a Crusader and your mother, Gloria Redfield, was a member of the Heartless. I'm not sure how they met, but they loved each other." Menar looked at his hands. '_I have Heartless blood in me_' he realized. "Estan managed to turn her away from the Heartless, a rare feat." Menar felt tears brimming his eyes.

"They hid themselves from everyone. Soon after, she became pregnant. They knew the Heartless would try to find her and punish her. They knew that Crusaders would come looking for him and demand an explaination."

"She gave birth to you." he continued, Ulrik put his hands behind his head, watching Menar closely. "Here," Ulrik handed him the letter.

Menar touched a corner of the the letter, his first and only connection to his parents. "How do you know so much about my parents?" he whispered. Headmaster Ulrik clasped his hands together and put them under his nose. "I knew your father. He was a wonderful man and we were close friends. You have carried on many of his qualities." Menar was speechless, though he did suspect that he knew them when he began asked him about his parents.

Out of all the questions that ran through his mind, he picked the one that he wanted answered the most. "Like what?" Ulrik smiled. "You have his knack for learning and magic, that's definately for certain. You have his eyes and his hair." "What was he like?" Menar asked. "He was a valiant soldier, and I was proud to fight along side him. Yes, we did fight together as well." Menar swallowed hard, suddenly thirsty. "Did Brother Paul know him?"

Headmaster Ulrik shook his head. "No. He was the replacement for your father. I assume he left to be with your mother." "Did you know her?" Menar questioned. "Almost a year and a half later, your father brought you to me, and asked me to take care of you. She was not with him, so I did not have the oppritunity to meet her." Menar's heart sank. "He said that it would not be wise for her to attend such an establishment with her history."

Menar finally tucked the letter into his own pocket. When he tucked it away, he purposfully brushed against it, just to make sure it didn't fall out.

"What about...my parents? What happened to them?" Menar held his breath. "I'm sorry, but I don't know." Menar stared at the envelope for a long time before he realized something. "So, you're- you're like my godfather?" Ulrik nodded, smiling. "Yes." Menar's feelings closed in on himself and went numb. Menar couldn't believe the closest person he had to family, was someone that he knew for years, but never talked to.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" "I was going to tell you after you completed your Crusader testing, when you were of age. You have proven yourself to be a model student, and you were being investigated to join the Elite branch that fights the Heartless. You were to learn of them, and then learn of your parents, so you could understand better. But your dream seems to have sped up time a little."

Then, Headmaster Ulrik looked across the room. "It's getting late. We'll have more time to talk about this later. Do you have any last questions?" Menar felt phsically, and emotionally, drained.

"What are we going to do about my dreams? And the attack that may, or may not happen?" Ulrik tilted his head thoughtfully, "I suppose we will have to figure that out tomorrow. If you have any more dreams, see either myself or Brother Paul." He looked straight at Menar. "No one else. Good-night."

Before Menar left for his bed, he made sure the envelope was in his pocket. As eager as he was to read them, he decided to read them tomorrow. "Good night, Headmaster." Ulrik rose and shook Menar's hand. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon." Menar took one last look at his scar and at his eye.

When Menar finally got back to his room, he just couldn't believe what had happened, as though it never did. The only proof he had was the letter. He laid down on his bed, pulled out the letter, and placed it on his nightstand. '_Tomorrow_,' he thought. '_I'll sort this all out tomorrow_.'


	4. Chapter 4: Love Letter

_Chapter Four_

_**Love Letter**_

Menar opened his eyes and just stared at the ceiling. When the blanket of grogginess was lifted from his mind, he lifted his own blanket off of his body, but he didn't feel like getting up. He just stared at the cieling, recalling the events of last night. He had spent most of his heavy thinking lying down on this bed, staring blankly at the tiles on the cieling.

He looked over to his nightstand and saw that the timecandle was almost melted away. 11 o' clock. The flame inching dangerously close to his letter. He snatched it away from the fire, cursing himself for his carelessness. There was wax all over it. He scratched it away with great care, thankful that it did not burn through the old paper. The evelope was already neatly opened, presumably by Headmaster Ulrik. '_My godfather_' he thought, still amazed at the unlikely fact As eager as he was to read it, he couldn't help himself from taking his time, savoring the moment. He reminded himself again that his parents held the same paper years ago.

He tenderly pulled out the parchment inside and unfolded it.

_Menar,_

_ Please do forgive us for the length of our letter, but we do not have the time to tell you about our lives as you wish. What we are focusing on right now, is your life. The reason that we can not be with you right now, is because the Heartless are looking for me. Your father is too stubborn to stay with you. He says that you will be safe with where you're going, and he needs to protect me. I am a former member of the Heartless, and their policy of traitors is to destroy everything the traitor owns. Thier possessions, their family-thier life._

_ You must understand that the reason that we did not keep you is not because we don't love you, it is because we love you. I wish that I could tell you all the unimportant things, the seemingly unimportant things that make our lives so wonderful together, and I can not say enough how much your father and I love you. _

_ Eventually they will discover that I had a child, but your father and I will not put you in harms way for our own selfish desires. You are far too precious to us. So, he is going to leave you in the care of Ulrik. Your father tells me that he is a good man and will take charge of you. I want you to listen to him, Menar._

_ Your existance must remain a secret from them. They take pride in revenge, and many of them know of my teachery. I do not have the time to explain to you what I did, but it was know that it was right. I hope that you never see one of them, realize now that not one of them has a glimmer of decency in them. I was lucky. I was also fortunate that fate combed your father and I out of the world so that we could woven eternally in marriage._

_ Menar, there are two points to this letter. One is that you must keep your existance a secret, because revenge is second nature to them, and will never let it go as long as they can still exact their revenge. The other is that we love you, your father and I both. Be a good boy, Menar. _

_ Love,_

_ Mom and Dad_

When Menar was finished with the last words, he just stared at them. _Love_, _Mom_, and _Dad_. Such common words, but they sounded so alien when applied to him. He flipped it over anxiously. Was that it? He blinked hard, half expecting more words to appear on the page.

He was surprised at what a relief it came to him, that his parents loved him and didn't abandon him. He knew that he ignored thinking about it, as did most of the Sanctuary's orphans. Many of the students here were orphans, but not many discovered a last, unknown connection to their parents. With that lingering thought, he put his head in his pillow, took a deep breath and had a good, long cry.

When he was finished, he straightened himself up and put the papers in his study desk drawer. He looked out of his window, away from this place and off into the distance. He could faintly see the people in the town milling about in the fog, unaware, uncaring about what he had just read. He looked down at the paper on his bed.

He picked it up, wiped his eyes, and left his room.

He ran down the hall to Vaxel's room, so he could tell him everything. He ran through the halls as fast as he could. Menar didn't know why he felt like running, but he just wanted to. It wasn't even that far of a walk. The walls around him became a blur of color. He reached the end of the hallway, the last door on his right was Vaxel's.

Vaxel always liked his room in the dark corner, just out of reach of the sunlight. He said that it gave a strange, ethreal look that was different from all of the other rooms. Then again, Vaxel liked everything that was different. He said that is what his first impression of Menar was that he was different. Go figure.

Menar knocked on the door. "Vaxel, let me in. We need to talk." There was no response from behind the door. He knocked again. "Vaxel." Still no response. Menar twisted the door handle to see if, by chance, Vaxel left it unlocked. Surprisingly, it was. Usually, he locked his door. He said that he liked his privacy.

Vaxel's room was messy, like it always had been, completely different from Menar's room. There was even things piled high on his bed. Menar would have thought that Vaxel wasn't in his room if the mass of junk on his bed hadn't moved up and down, seeming to breathe life. '_How can he sleep like that?_ ' wondered Menar.

He walked over to his bed, trying to step on the floor, which proved to be impossible. When he reached it, he picked up a mass of clutter and put it on the floor. He sat in the spot that had been cleared and shook Vaxel gently. "Wake up." He slitted his eyes open. Menar shook him again. "Hey, wake up. I have something to tell you."

Vaxel turned to look at Menar, accidently sending some clothes tumbling to the floor. "Hey." he grumbled, "I left my door unlocked for you so you could come in and tell me how last night went." Menar looked around the room. "Yeah, I guessed that much. Some pretty crazy things happened last night." he said softly. As chaotic as the room looked, it seemed uniform. Like this was how it was supposed to look, as if everything was in perfect order. Menar admired it for a moment. It almost seemed to be an art form in it's own sense.

Vaxel poked him. "What happened?" "Sit up and I'll tell you. I should probably start from the beginning." Vaxel put his back to his headboard and did something he rarely did-gave Menar his full, undivided attention. Menar took a deep breath and began to tell him the events of last night. About halfway through, Menar realized he was telling it to himself as well. Vaxel made a good audience and only interrupted occasionally for clarification, but otherwise reamained silent, with an occasional look of surprise.

"Wow," he said when Menar was finished. "What a messed up day. Who would have thought that a dream would cause you to get a letter from your..." he hesitated. "parents and meet your godfather." he shook his head. "Ulrik! Huh!" Menar nodded. "Yeah, I feel the same way." Menar ground his teeth. Vaxel snorted. "I can't even imagine what it must be like for you. The Headmaster's your godfather, you're apparently psychic, and you found out who your parents were" he turned serious for a moment, "or are, all in one night. It must be rough on you."

Menar winced and ran his hand through his hair. "My parents have to be dead," It hurt him to say that, but he couldn't accept anything else. "and I don't really think I'm psychic, I'm sure you've had some dreams that came true." "Yeah, but nothing like that! Just little thing that I do everyday." "Well, it hasn't come true _yet_. Hopefully it never will." Then Menar looked him in the eye. "Vaxel, did you know your parents?" he finally asked the one question he had been dying to know for a long, long time.

Vaxel's eyes glazed over. It was a long time before he spoke. "No, but sometimes I think about them. Wondering who they were, so I could find out who I am. I've imagined a lot of things, but the thing that I have realized from imagining all of the different things that they could be, is that you can't rely on your parents for the image that you want. You have to create that image for yourself."

Menar found it increasingly difficult to hold such an empty stare. "Is that why you want to fight so badly? For fame? Money?" Life returned to Vaxel's eyes. He shrugged and grabbed a shirt from the floor next to him. "I've thought about that too. I found out that I don't want to die forgotten. I want my name to be on the lips of the world for generations. I can't accept for my life to be worthless. I just can't." he sighed. "You're lucky that your parents loved you. I sure hope my parents did too. I hope they didn't think I'm worthless." he said dryly.

Menar got up and streched. He could tell Vaxel was trying to get off the subject of Vaxel's parents, and he was grateful that he wasn't offended by his asking. "No, you're not worthless. Maybe there's is a little discount because you're a bent." Vaxel smiled a crooked smile as he put his shirt on. "But you're a good person. I don't think you're worthless." Vaxel tugged on his shoes. "Thanks. That means a lot to me. Hey, speaking of buying junk for a discount, do you want to go down to town? I've got some money that's just begging to be spent and they've got some good sales for Halloween. I want to get some things for the festival tonight."

"Sure, I've saved up some coins too, and it will be good to get away from this place for a little while." Vaxel nodded vigerously. "I concurr."Menar suddenly remembered the Headmaster. "But we can't stay out too late. Ulrik said that he would see me later on this afternoon." Menar no longer had a problem by calling him by his name, but he didn't think he would ever be ready to call him his 'godfather'.

"Alright, get your things and we'll go." Vaxel said as he began digging in the pockets of a pair of pants next to him, looking for something. Menar smiled. He began walking to his room, but stopped in the door frame. "Thanks Vaxel, this helped me." He waved his hand dimissively. "Ah, you're welcome. Now get out." Menar grin widened as he left Vaxel to prepare.

__ __

* * *

The town was a very different place from the Sanctuary. During the day, it was always loud and full of life. But what really distinguished the town from the Sanctuary, was that everyone was rushing off and seemed to be preoccupied in their own little world, which was astounding, because Menar always thought the one around them was still just as interesting. Which didn't mean that the town didn't have dangers.

Going into town was strictly forbidden to those under the age of sixteen. Even then, you had to notify someone. When Menar was younger, he had to walk with an adult, which was a major inconvience, because adults often weren't going into town for children, but for buisness. It didn't take one very long to understand that.

Menar looked around him. Vaxel took a moment to enjoy the muse of it as well. He was surprised, because Vaxel normally just bustled through things without taking a moments notice of what others were doing, which is what the townsfolk seemed to be doing. Bustling.

"Alright, where to go first?" Vaxel asked. Menar felt like they were stones in a stream and people just walked around them, occasionally bumping into them and sending them back a little towards the current. "I don't know, where do you want to go." Vaxel shrugged. "Let's just walk around and see what we like. With that, he began walking." Vaxel lead the way, bumping past other people in his path unintentionally, but unaviodably. Menar followed closely behing him, so they wouldn't get separated or lost.

Even though he had spent his whole life here, he didn't really visit the city all that much. Caoji was a realatively small place, boardering medium sized. He often thought about, when he was older, if he would eventually move to Anvilmar, the capital of the Empire. Interestingly, King Ramon lived in Anvilmar. Anvilmar rested on the mouth of the Plutoma River that opened to the Debreolli Ocean. Menar longed to see the ocean and he heard that the city itself was a beautiful place. He hoped to at least visit it one day.

"Hey," said Vaxel glancing over his should to make sure Menar heard. "Would you mind if we stopped here?" He pointed to a sign that read _' Jake and Jane's Practical Jokes'_ Menar gestured for him to go ahead. Vaxel walked over to the shop, bumping into others harshly in his haste. The people he offended made annoyed faces. He could even hear one elderly man mutter, "Disrespectful children nowadays. I keep telling her we should move, but...complaining about work...porridge." That was all he heard before he went out of earshot.

Menar entered the store with Vaxel. A tiny bell rang over their heads as they entered. "I'm going to go look in the back for something specific. You can look around if you want." Vaxel walked hurridly away, as if he didn't want Menar to follow. '_He's probably looking for a prank to pull on me.'_ Menar thought, '_He can never just give me a gift like any normal person.' _Menar snickered and perused some of the wares, but he had no intention of buying them.

Fake wounds, fake blood, rubber weapons-they seemed awfully macrabre for children. '_Vaxel isn't a child.'_ he reminded himself. He shook his head. What was he talking about? Of course, Vaxel was. He may have turned eighteen two weeks ago, but that didn't mean that he was an adult.

Menar went to the shops window that displayed their best products to the public outside. It consisted of Snap Sticks, Whizzers, and an assortment of other small mechanical gadgets designed to victemize people and humiliate them, some included a small amount of pain, such as the Snap Sticks. Menar couldn't see the fun in hurting someone for pure enjoyment, or humilating them. He could find an innocent prank without fake blood and the like.

He looked outside. From here, the street didn't seem so crowded. He could actually catch glimpses of the other side of the street. He wondered if there was a clock somewhere near. He look inbetween the brief clearences in random spots past the people. He finally found one after a moment of looking. It was almost one. His stomach growled to remind him that he missed breakfast, warning him against missing lunch.

He didn't really feel hungry that morning, because he was still preoccupied with last night, but his stomach was willing to make up for missed time and neglect. He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around all of it. He didn't think that he could ever accept Headmaster Ulrik as family, when all of Menar's life he could have introduced himself as a guardian of his, or some sort of friend. But no. He kept himself in the image of his authorative supirior. He wasn't supirior.

Menar could feel anger stirring within him. _If he really cared about me, then why wouldn't he have been there throughout my life? Why now? Did he expect me to be his little prodige? So he could push his former glory days on me? He's just a bitter old man. He may have known my parents, but he sure as hell didn't raise me. I did that well enough myself. For all I know, he could be just using his influence to get me into the Elite branch.' _

But it still didn't explain his apparent 'visions'. He wanted to believe his own theory so badly, that the loopholes just frustrated him further. He squeezed his eyes shut. '_Maybe I'm just angry that he wasn't there for me,'_ The logical voice in his mind said, but he really didn't want to listen to that voice right now. He was blessed with having the ability to hold logic and his emotions in two separate hands. Sometimes, like now, he didn't like that. He heard someone coming up front from the back of the room. '_I'll get some answers from him tonight.'_ Menar looked out of the window, suddenly alert.

Was that someone watching him? From the other side of the street? He squinted. There was someone just standing across the street. It looked like a woman. She had two tattoos around her eyes and her skin was as pale as a ghosts. She wasn't looking right at him, but in a way, she was. Then, she looked right at him. Menar could feel his blood turn to ice. She didn't run away. She held his entranced gaze. A wave of people blocked his view of her. Then she was gone.

"Hey, what are you looking at?" Vaxel said from behind him. Menar jumped. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" Vaxel frowned. "Geez, what's got your goat?" "Sorry, I was just thinking. You know, about last night." "Yeah." Vaxel perked up. "Hey, I still have a few coins left. I'm going to take you somewhere you might like. As an early birthday present." Menar smiled. "So you did remember my birthday."

Now he felt not only hunger gnawing at him, but pangs of guilt. "Sorry I snapped at you like that. I thought you were still paying for that..." he studied the parcel. "thing. What is that anyways?" Vaxel smiled mischeviously. "A surprise for someone. So, do you want _your_ surprise or not?" He didn't wait for Menar to answer, but gestured for Menar to follow him. Menar obliged, but before he did, he looked out the window again at the streets.

It could have been his imagination, or it could have just been someone across the street. He shrugged it off and followed Vaxel. The streets were hardly crowded at all now. Perhaps the Saturday lunch rush was almost over. How long were they in there? He decided against asking. It wasn't really important.

"Where are we going?" inquired Menar. Vaxel smiled. "You'll see. We're almost there as a matter of fact." Menar looked around at the stores. Nothing really appealed to him. "There." Menar saw exactly what he meant now. The sign above the shop he was pointing out, read _Anne's Fortunes_. Menar shook his head. "Don't waste your money. You-" "Oh come on," Vaxel interuppted. "It's my gift. This way, I figure we can tell whether or not you're really psychic. Actually, that would be kinda cool. Don't you want to know?"

Menar pondered the idea. '_It would be nice to know. If they say that I am, then I'll entertain the idea. I'll even talk to Brother Paul about it, and if I'm not...then great.' _"Alright," he sighed. "I'll do it." Vaxel grinned. "Sublime." He grabbed Menar's shoulder and more-or-less pushed him into the shop before he could change his mind. Fortunately, it didn't have a door, just gaudy beads that parted when he went through.

He was instantly displeased. Even if someone could actually possess psychic powers, he didn't see the point in fake jewlrey. He hoped that the teller didn't try to pose a strange accent, because that would just push him off the edge. The room was small, just enough for a table with four chairs. A crystal ball and Tarot cards lay on it. Some of the cards were already lain out.

Vaxel sat down in one of the chairs. Menar sat in the one closest to the cards, so he could look at them. "You aren't going to sit next to me? That hurts, buddy." Menar caught himself. He didn't want to become enticed just by the looks of it like everyone else, so he got up and sat by Vaxel. "Happy now? You big crybaby." Menar taunted. Vaxel prentended to be taken aback. "I was just kidding, you know. You can sit anywhere you want. Though I'd advise against sitting on that dagger over there." Menar looked over to see the dagger on a table. What in the world would a psychic need a dagger for? _Probably protection._

A part of the wall opened up and a woman stepped out of the hidden door. Menar wondered why she had a hidden door, but not even a front door. She was definately strange. "So, who's fortune am I reading?" she said curtly and plopped down in the chair across from them. Vaxel pointed to Menar. "His." She nodded and popped her knuckles. "Pick your pleasure." She obviously wasn't very talkative. Menar couldn't figure what to make of her. At least she wasn't trying to be some sort of fake like he thought she might.

"Excuse me?" "We've got Tarot Cards, the crystal ball, tea leaves, palm reading, bone readings- whatever you want, you got it. Not for free of course." She didn't fail to add. Menar pointed to the knife. "What's that for?" "Sacrifices?" Vaxel joked. "Stop that!" Menar hissed. She glared at Vaxel. "No kid, that's for little boys who don't pay their dues. Money up front or no dice. One silver."

Vaxel pulled out the remaining coins in his pocket. "I'm two Knuckles short. Does that matter?" She shook her head. "No you're not. You're holding out on me." Vaxel pulled out two more coins. "You must be psychic." he grinned. Menar knew that specific grin. He liked her. He could imagine Vaxel praying she didn't know that. "No, just experience."

"Why do you have all of this? The beads, jewelry, and the like?" "It's a people pleaser thing, a sort of eye candy. Like that crystal ball there. It's just for looks, but most everything else is real." "So you really are psychic?" Vaxel asked. She rolled her eyes. "Yes. I swear, if I had a Knuckle for every time I heard that question, I could open up another shop. So," she turned to Menar. "What do you want?" Menar figeted. "Well, I first I want to know if I'm psychic." she seemed surprised.

"Mmm. I don't hear that question very often." she reached across the table and grabbed his hand. She stared so closely at it, that her nose almost touched his hand. She stayed that way for a minute before she put it down. "No, you're not. Anything else I can do for you?" Menar looked at his hand shocked. He even felt a little disappointment, which made him realize that somewhere inside of him, a part of him wanted to believe it.

"Well that doesn't make any sense." complained Vaxel. "Prove that _you're _psychic." "Fine. You've been to a prank shop." Vaxel furrowed his brow. "Well, yeah." Vaxel glanced at Menar. Anne gestured toward the package he had in his lap. "You shouldn't act so smart when you are so gullible. It makes you look even more foolish."

"Are you always this rude to your clients?" he asked Anne. She popped her knuckles again. "No, I'm sorry." she sighed, "I'm just a little stressed out right now. Is it really that noticable?" Menar didn't want to be here anymore. He got what he wanted. He nodded. "Yes it is." She sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just my fortune." she put her hands down on the Tarrot Cards. "My boyfriend was fired today, but it also says there is danger in his future. When he gets home and tells me, I wouldn't doubt he'll be in danger." She put a hand on her forhead melodramatically. "I just don't know what to do with him. He just can't hold down a job for too long."

Menar couldn't believe she actually based events in her life on her acclaimed powers. "Well, thank you for a wonderful time." He began to get up. She looked at him mistily. "You're going through a hard time in your life right now, aren't you? You don't fully believe in my powers. Sit and I'll show you." Menar edged back into his seat. She leaned back and grabbed a bag off the shelf behind her. "Can I see your palm once more?" Menar put his palm in the air.

This time, she grabbed it gently, but still kept her nose close to his palm. He could feel her breathing on him. He was a little grossed out. "I see you've just contacted someone special for the first time recently." Menar pulled his hand away. "Yes. I'm an orphan and I just read a letter from my parents." He wasn't sure if he wanted her to know about the Heartless. That is, if she could possibly read it from him. "You're worried about your parents." Menar looked her in the eye. "Are they alive?" She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know, I can only read _your_ fortune."

"Well," recalled his dream. How could he not be psychic, and still know about the Heartless and the potential threat they posed to the city? "How many customers have you had today?" "One." she answered immediately, "Some man that wanted to know if his wife was cheating on him." she smiled. "He's rather odd when he gets mad." "That's all he wanted to know? No palm readings or anything?"

She gave him a strange look. "You sure do ask some strange questions kid." she looked at Vaxel, who shrugged. "Don't look at me, I only paid to know whether or not he was psychic as a birthday gift." "Can you read my friend's palm and mine? I want to know if there is danger in our future." "Alright," she said. Menar put his palm out again and she motioned for Vaxel to do the same.

He put his hand out and she looked at both of them, not so closely this time, but enough to make Menar feel uncomfortable again. "Yes," she whispered. "How strange. How very strange." "And you?" Menar asked. "What do you mean '_you_'?" she looked at him curiously.

"Is there danger in your future?" she dropped their hands and studied her own hands. After a moment, she looked at Menar. "Those questions are too lucky to be a guess. How did you know all of this?" Menar returned her stare. "At the risk of sounding cliche, I can't tell you." It took her a moment to smile. "You're alright kid. You know, sometimes, I can't tell such detailed questions just from a palm reading. We can go into the back, and I can do a more intensive reading if you would prefer."

Menar stood up. "No, thank you. If I am, I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. Besides, I think it's more something that I have to find out for myself." She nodded slowly. "That's true. However, I can speed up the process." Menar shook his head. He partially declined because he didn't want her to find out about the Heartless. "No, no thank you. I think my friend here and I will leave. You have a good day, and watch yourself tomorrow." "Why is that." Menar shrugged and grinned. "Just a gut feeling. Good day." And with that, Menar and Vaxel left.

When Menar left Anne's Fortune with Vaxel, he felt relieved. "What a joke. I doesn't make any sense! None at all." Menar agreed, but didn't harbor any sense of obligation to investigate. "Well, you heard what she said. After all, she has 'the Gift'." Menar said mockingly, illustrating quotations in the air.

Vaxel paused to look at some odd trinkets on a rackm hanging outside a shop. "Yeah, well her parents must not have liked her very much to give her such a lousy gift." Menar smiled darkly, "That's awful." He continued walking.

Vaxel looked up, confused. "What? You know it's the trugth! Old bag can't read palms, can't even read a book I'd wager." He ran to catch up with Menar. He laughed. "Look who's talking!" Vaxel grew defensive. "Hey, I _choose_ not to! Besides, you're psychic, I know it." Menar gave an impartial grunt.

There's no way Vaxel could know, not even the old fortuneteller though she confimed his thoughts, so he didn't want to discredit her entirely. Only he could know, and he was fairly certain he was most definately not psychic.

The town streets grew crowded again. Holiday shoppers oogled and gazed upon shop windows with tantalyzing toys, exclusive Halloween treats, and other feastive wares stocked on the shelves inside. Menar and Vael continued to peruse the shops until the day drew to a close.

Just before twilight, something pecilure happened. Menar and Vaxel were walking along the street, when a commotion started behind them. Menar turned around and saw a score of people circled around the disturbance.

"Well, might as well see what's going on." Menar said, purely out of curiosity. They pushed their way through the crowd and saw what was causing the noise.

A young boy stood in the middle of the narrow street, held by the forearm by a local guard. "Bugger off, old man! I ain't steals a nothin'!" The guard held him tight, causing the boy's dirt face to grimance. "I saw yas steal it with me own two peepers, boy!" The plump guard spat, sweating in his armor. "Fish it out of yer filthy pockets and hand it over! A'fore I break your little arm, theif."

The boy thrust his hand into his pocket and grabbed the necklace. He immediately put it in his mouth. "Disrespectful mutt! I'll wallop you real good! Yeach you!" The guard struck the boy in the mouth, har, causing him to fall back.

The crowdscreamedin outrage, but held back, afraid to interfere with an offical. Menar turned to Vaxel. "Do something!" Vaxel clearly looked torn. "What?" "You're a Crusader Knight now! You have authority! Use!"

Menar looked at the boy. He had already sprung to his feet and stood toe to toe against the guard, clenching his jaw tight to protect the necklace. The creowd cheered for the boy and jeered and taunted the guard.

Vaxel yelled in Menar's ear to be heard. "I can't! It's not offical! Besides, if I get in trouble-" Menan couldn't believe him, the one time he didn't want to get in trouble when it mattered...He chouldn't stand it. Fury filled his heart as he stepped in the small circle. The boy jabbed the guards face, landing a successful bony punch to the pudgy man's fat cheek.

Menar shoved them apart, adrenaline pumping. "just what do you think yyou're doing?" Menar shouted, his voice ringing abouve all others and brought silence down."Who the blood hell do you think you are?" Menar's anger gave him confidence. He thought quickly. Surely he could outwit this man.

"I'm a Crusader. Under Article Two, Section Three of the King's Proclaimation, I-" "Ye don't even look like one! Ye look like ye gots a deathwish!" The guard charged Menar. He threw his fist far back, giving Menar time to duck and roll. He missed terribly.

The boy tried to bolt at the distraction, but the guard caught him and threw him to the ground, brining up a could of dirt. His head made a dull thump as it hit the ground.

Menar's stomach knotted at the sound. The guard whirled around for him. Menar stood up. "Don't believe me? Fine!" Menar brought his arms up high and slammed them agenst the earth.

The ground beneath the guard cracked and opened. The hole was only shin deep, but the man almost fell, his eyes wide open and his mouth gaped in a comical "o". Menar clenched the earth and the hold contracted around the man's legs.

The crowd gasped in amzement. Menar knew the offense of using magic in public was immense, but, at the moment, he didn't care. He was infuriated at the injustice of it all, and it made him disgusted. "stupid wizard! Typical of yer lot to use yer magicky tricks! Fight like a man!" He looked pathetic flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to reach him.

Menar looked down at him. "You don't know what it takes to be a man." Mena barked. The growd roard in a pproval. He walked over to the boy and helped him up. He began to walk with the scrungy boy and, dazed, he followed.

Menar noticed the necklace lay not too far away, likely spat from his mouth when he hit his head. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. "Yer both mang thieves!" he bellowed, but the cheers of the crowd drowned him out even as he began yelling for assitance from more guards.

Menar saw Vaxel staring at him, mouth agape. Menar motioned for him to follow. He held on firmly to the boy, guiding him away from everyone before other guards showed up. The boy was beginning to get his bearings, but was still a little incoherant.

They walked as fast as they could with him, before he started shouting at the new strangers holding him.

Menar pulled him into the nearest ally, Vaxel not too far behind. "Shut it!" Menar said. To his surprise, he stopped yelling. "Look, I didn't steal it! And you'll not take it from me!" The boy's eyes widened and he patted his pocket with his free hand

He tugged his arm. "Let go! I've gotta find it, you fool! Oh!" he moaned. he was stubborn as could be, but Menar couldn't help admiring his bravery...or stupidity. He let go. "I've got it, and you won't get it back until ou answer some questions."

Menar hated to sound so rough, but he didn't want the child to take it if it wasn't his. "Menar! That was stupid! And amazing! It was amazingly stupid! We could get in trouble for using magic!" Menar glared coldly at Vaxel. "'Unless the Knight is in a combative situation.'" he recited. Vaxel looked like he was about to say something, but thought the better of it. 'You better' Menar thought.

"Magic?" The boy suddenly looked exsquisetly disgusted. "Oh, you're that bloke from that muddy hole you all call 'the Sanctuary'." "Of course," replied Menar, "But I didn't just save your neck so you could mock me because were I come from. One such as yourself should know better. Where did you get the necklace?" The boy's amber eyes burned into him with hatred.

"Me mum," he said with a sharp edge to his voice, resentful. "An' it's a locket. It's got a picture of me an' 'er. Go on then, open it!" Menar held his heated stare a moment longer efore fetching it from his pocket. "That fool tried to take it from me when I was lookin' at 'er. Buffons take anythin' shiney."

IF it had been shiney, it wasn't anymore. Small closts of dirt clung to it, along with the boy's spit. Menar opened it. A dark haired woman smiled and a small baby smiled on the other side. "Where is your mom?" Menar looked up, surprised. The boy's eyes welled with tears.

Suddenly, he snatched it out of Menar's relaxed grip. the boy dashed down the ally and disappeared. "Well, that was nice of you." Vaxel mumbled. Menar turned to him. "You've got a lot to lear at being a Knight."

He heard the clinking of armor as several of the town guards rushed in a nearby street. "Wait 'til I find the sap! I'll wring him dry!" He heard the pudy guard's voice yell from somewhere. Vaxel smiled. "Perhaps, but I recognize a good time when I hear it." Menar returned the smile. "Yeah, and I do all the work."

Vaxel sprinted out of the ally and turned left. "Wouldn't have it any other way." he called. Menar ran after him. People rushed by in startled blurs. The Sanctuary lay a few blocks ahead, perched upon it's hilltop. It's tall pillars seemed to scrape the sky.

Rain began to gently fall and thunder clapped, making the earth shiver. The ominous thunder was matched only by the guards' cries and the two boy's feet pounding against the road


	5. Chapter 5: Meeting of Minds

_Chapter Five_

_**Meeting of Minds**_

Vaxel and Menar stopped short of the courtyard, choosing to run around the side to prolong the feeling of pursit. They were out of breath, but somehow managed to laugh. Menar leaned against a nearby wall and Vaxel doubled-over. "That-that was great!" he gasped. Menar couldn't muster enough breath to speak. They stopped laughing abruptly. Brother Paul was coming towards them with a hurried pace. He didn't look happy.

"Menar!" he called, waving his hand for him to come over. After breathing heavily a moment, a second wind came to them from the black note they both detected in Brother Paul's voice. "Are you in trouble?" Vaxel said under his breath as they both began walking towards him. "No, I don't think so." Menar had a good idea what this was about. When they stood before Brother Paul, Menar spoke, "What do you need?"

Brother Paul looked at him without any hint of expression, which was odd for him, a bad sign. "We need to talk. I want you to accompany me, please." Vaxel fidgeted. "Can I come?" he spoke as though he already knew the answer. Brother Paul smiled weakly at him. "It would be better, by far, if you didn't know, for both of us." Menar looked at the ground, the pangs of guilt eating at him.

He shrugged. "Alright, I'll see you later, Menar." he said simply, but with heavy gravity. Menar wasn't even sure if he wanted to hear what Brother Paul had to say. He walked off in the other direction, scuffing his heels. "Shall we?" Brother Paul said, gesturing forward. Menar complied without delay.

They walked in silence for most of the way, until Menar recognized that they were close. "What is this about Brother Paul?" Brother Paul looked at him. "This is about you. This is about everyone. Things have changed, Menar." he looked forward again. "You'll see." He seemed so curt, so different.

Ulrik's door was closed, as Menar expected. What he did not expect, was how Brother Paul had opened the door without knocking. It seemed so out of character for him, something serious was definately going on. Menar found himself staring at the assortment of books and shelves of trinkets again.

The Headmaster wasn't even in the room. The only person, besides himself and Brother Paul, was a Crusader Knight, and a high ranking one at that. He could tell by the cape that he was wearing and the large red cross across his chest. He nodded respectfully to Menar and saluted Brother Paul, who bowed to him. "I'm a monk now, you don't have to do that, sir." He smiled grimly. "I'm sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances." he said, ignoring Brother Paul's comment.

Menar looked around to make sure Ulrik wasn't lurking behind any stacks of books or shelves. Brother Paul smiled, "It is, but I didn't really expect us to meet again. It's a pleasure all the same." Menar looked at the man. He looked down at Menar. "You know each other?" he asked openly. "Yeah, you could say that." he smiled omniscently.

Brother Paul blinked hard. "I've heard a lot about you, and I have a feeling that we'll see much more of each other." he said, shifting his helmet that he held to his left hand, extending his right. Menar took it and shook it. He was surprised at how firm it was. "How so, sir?" He smiled. "Ah, I find your etiquette refreshing. It's not common nowadays." Menar nodded vigerously, recalling what happened in town. "In anycase, I am the presiding officer of a base for The Elite- you know about us, do you not?" Menar nodded again. "that you will likely be going to." he finished.

Menar raised his eyebrow. "It's an honor, but what are you doing here?" His smile dropped. "I don't feel that is my place to say just yet." Brother Paul nodded and turned his head at a door in the corner of the room that opened. The Headmaster poke his head out of it, noticing them. "Ah, you're here already! I thought you might be talking to yourself, Remus." The Knight shook his head, "No, not this time." The Headmaster opened the door, but fell back into the next room. "This way, if you please." he said.

Menar moved to the door with the others. When he went in the room, he found it was a private sitting area. It had nothing in it but a small circle of chairs that had lavish fabrics and extravagent pillows in a circular depression in the floor. There were no windows or doors, other than the one he walked through.

He sat on the only sofa, across from two chairs. Brother Paul and the Headmaster sat in the chairs across from him. "Shut the door, please." The man named Remus did so. Menar didn't think it would echo as loud as it did in the small room, but briefly. There wasn't a sound except for Remus's under-armor clinking as he moved to sit in the only avalibe seat by Menar.

When he sat down, his sword brushed against Menar, making him jump. Remus laughed, the others smiled. "Don't worry, I don't bite." he joked. Menar made an embarassed smile. "It's not that, I just didn't know what that was." "Ah, not familar with the touch of the sword, are you? Well, you will. You will."

It was quite for a while. Ulrik was the first to speak. "Menar, the reason we have brought you here today, has been because of your dreams, I told you of that yesterday." Menar didn't speak, recognizing the pause as preperatory. He twisted the ring on his finger. Menar looked at his eye and scar again. He knew this wasn't the time to speak to him about his parents, though he so wanted to.

"Well, there's a complication." He looked over to Brother Paul, leaning forward with his next words. "Would you explain it? I'm afraid I'm not very good at explaining these kinds of things." He nodded and leaned in as well. "Menar, those dreams were visions, of that I am without a doubt." Menar felt exhileration in his chest, making him feel light-headed. "I know for a fact what that was. It may be hard to belive, but what you dreamed wasn't at all metaphorical, it's going to come true."

Menar felt as though he was hit in the head. "How?" he said, dazed. "How do you know?" He put his hands inside of his lap. "I understand you already know my psychic abilites. Well, over time I have managed to develop them to see what I choose, but I must know exactly what I am looking for, where, and when. However, I do not see everything, just bits and pieces. It's very difficult to explain, as you know, but there will be an attack on the city, so I checked to see if there were any recent intelligences on actions against our city."

He gestured to Remus. He stared a Brother Paul a moment longer, as if not sure what he was doing. "Right, and there is, though we didn't know it at first." Menar was confused. "What do you mean?" "Well, we recovered a letter that ordered the attack on a city, though it did not specify. The letter described it as a strategic movement against the King, their first act to begin taking over his empire, which came as an enormous surprise to us.

"They've been around for centuries, but they've never made any actual movements against us, so we have no idea what they are capable of. Anyways, we didn't know which city they were to attack, until Brother Paul contacted us about what you envisioned."

"But how would attacking this city be a strategic movement?" Menar asked. Brother Paul spoke up. "Well, think about it. This city is where taxes are created to be distributed throughout the Empire." "Here?" said Menar incredously. "But why here? This town isn't large. Why don't they just go over to Port James? It's much more populated and not too far from here."

Brother Paul frowned. "Quite right, Menar; however, if taxes are created here, then the King is able to quickly let the merchants know, resulting in increase in collection and enforcement." He closed his eyes and reclined. "Not only that, but if it's here, there will be less complications." Menar scowled. He knew what he was insinuating, and he didn't like it, but it was the truth.

"They'll undoubtedly use the attack on this town as a decoy, moving troops from Port James to weaken it's defenses. Then, attack the port." Ulrik nodded. "Indubitively. This way, they kill to birds with one stone, weaking the economy, though it's already weak."

Menar nodded. "Yeah, I saw; I went into town today. The people are already divided against the local guards. They probably won't like any other authority figure. I've noticed it getting worse over the years." Menar felt grateful for growing up in the Sanctuary. The others commented approval.

Brother Paul leaned his head to the side. "Many of the people think the King is unfit to rule. Coupled with the idea the King can't protect them would cause a domestic uprising. We may not know what the Heartless are capable of after the centuries they were inactive, but we know they are smart, and they need to be destroyed."

**"Well, how many are '_they_'?" asked Menar. They all looked at him. The pause that ensued was undoubtedly unfortable for all of them. "They," said Remus. "We don't know." he said slowly. Menar didn't understand. "What do you mean?" "Well, there are many, but we don't know the exact number. We don't even have a figure."

"Remember when I told you about the period of inactivity?" Menar nodded. "Yes, three hundred years." Ulrik nodded. "Correct. As I said, about forty years ago that peace broke when they began attacking small communities. Their power is evident in the nature of their attacks and the vicousness of it. It is best to assume the worst case scenario, that there are armies of them. With power like they demonstrated, we can't afford to underestimate them."

Menar's eyes looked over the room. Aside from the chairs and the depression in the floor, there was nothing in it. How often did he have these kinds of talks? It seemed like a strange thing to have for a Headmaster. _'Unless he isn't'_ Menar thought. In a strange, illogical way, Menar thought that he was still somehow working for the Elite branch. Menar stared at him with contempt, but he discarded the idea-it was too far fetched.

"Is everything alright, Menar?" Brother Paul asked. Menar was caught off-guard. _'He knows.' _Menar thought. He couldn't think of a plausable lie quick enough, so he tried to buy some time. "What do you mean?" he asked. Brother Paul shrugged with his hands. "I don't know. You just don't seem like yourself."

The others looked at him. Menar spoke cautiously, choosing his words carefully. "It's just that all of this is very diffcult for me to fathom. You know that I haven't even been around much violence. At least, not like this." Menar actually half-believed the lie himself it was so good. It seemed to work, because Brother Paul said nothing. "But I don't understand why you are all telling me this. I can't do anything about it."

"No, but you saved many lives." said Remus, nudging him appreciatively, his sword touching him again. He didn't like the cold, metallic feel of it; it disturbed him. It seemed awfully ironic too, how he said Menar saved lives, but touching him with something that ended a number of lives that he did not know.

"Credit is due where credit is due." Brother Paul chimed. Ulrik nodded. "What we had planned to do, was send the students here to another town, but the city Council will not let us uproot the school. That doesn't mean we aren't going to take precautions." he said hastily as Menar started.

"Yes," Remus said quickly, "Some of my men are stationed at the school right now." '_I didn't see them when I came in.' _Menar thought. '_Well, it's a good thing I'm not a Heartless._' He felt an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach when he remembered that was the spawn of the Heartless.

He looked down at the ground. "What about the city?" he inquired. Brother Paul shook his head. "Eh, the guards here aren't very...ambitous. Though they said that they would be on the lookout for any 'suspicous behavior'." Ulrik snorted. "Yes, so I took the liberty of informing the local milita to watch for an attack on the city. Fortunately, they outnumber the guards and understood the matter a lot better."

"I can imagine that," Menar stated. "Most of their families lived here for generations, too consumed by poverty to move on. So, naturally, they feel a desire to protect what's theirs." Remus looked flabbergaster. "You're right, he is exremely intelligent." He nodded to Brother Paul. Menar felt a burst of affection and pride.

He twiddled his thumbs. "What do you think is going to be the prognosis?" The three of them consulted each other with looks. Remus was the first to speak. "I've seen their attacks. None of them have been foreseen like this, so no one had had time to prepare. We have a fighting chance." Silence followed, more comfortable than the others, but not enough so to linger upon. He felt the need for action.

"So, is that all? What do I do?" Menar asked, not sure himself what he was implying. "Be careful. Be aware." Brother Paul said. "Headmaster Ulrik plans to address the students before the festival tomorrow." Menar was relived. "Great." There wa a long pause, Menar recognized it as the end of the meeting.

"You should go and rest now, Menar. Prepare for dinner and the like." Ulrik said. Menar stared at him. He didn't like him ordering him around, like his child. "I planned on it." he said with a hint of bitterness. He was aware that Brother Paul knew of the tension in the air. Even the Headmaster seemed to catch the hint, for Menar thought his eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't worry, Menar, everything will be fine."

Menar felt a surge of annoyance, which dully surprised him. Why was his emotions acting up? He didn't answer him; he just turned and left the room, heading for the courtyard to practice his water magic until dinner was ready. Vaxel could wait.

__ __

* * *

When Menar had finally began to walk to dinner, he had, indeed, noticed the dramatic increase in security. Guards were posted and patrolling all through the school, though he didn't try to initate conversation with any of the soldiers. They looked similar to Remus, except they lacked the red cross, the cape, and the helmet. Save for that, they had almost all of his accessories and attire, including the swords, whose handles looked plainer and less intrecate than Remus's.

Menar watched them carefully on his way to dinner, so he could see what the people at the base he was going to were like. They seemed well disciplined, like a soldier would be, but something about them put him on the edge, like they couldn't be trusted. He shrugged it off. He probably just thought it was strange that loads of people with swords were about when the attack on the city was so near.

As he rounded around to dinner, he prepared himself for what he would say to Vaxel. The Dining Hall was packed with students, who were busily chatting about their day. Menar didn't feel like joining in on their conversations. He saw Vaxel before he managed to see him. He was eating dinner already, though he had just begun. Menar went up to the line and waited to be served.

He looked down at the food; it smelled great. Ham, mashed potatoes, corn, rice pudding- obviously a treat for the Festival to come. Menar wondered what the Headmaster would say when he addressed the students before they went to the festival.

Menar took the tray of food and walked, delibrately slow, to the table where Vaxel sat. When he was just a few steps away, Vaxel glanced up at him, then looked down at his food, then looked up again, realizing who he was. Menar returned his ignorent smile, envied it.

"Hey," Vaxel said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "Great stuff right here. So, did you see all the soldiers? Pretty neat, huh? I'm going to be one of those." Menar didn't return his smile. Vaxel's quickly faded. "Yeah, neat." he mumbled. "What's wrong? Is this about..." he glanced around. "Well, you know?"

Menar nodded. "Yeah, they're coming tomorrow." he timidly took a bit of his meat. Vaxel looked shocked at the news. "Tomorrow?" Menar didn't answer the rhetorical question. He continued eating, letting it sink in. "Well, what are we going to do about it?"

Menar laughed sarcastically. "_We _aren't going to do a thing. Apparently, the town guards and milita are going to protect everyone." Vaxel scowled in disgust. "The guards aren't fit to take post on a manure farm. As for the milita, they aren't well-enough equipped to fight at full scale attack."

Menar flashed back to yesterday. "Logistics." Vaxel was confused. "Huh?" "Logistics," he repeated. "You just did that with math, wieghing all the factors and coming out with a probable outcome. Amount of people, weapons, power- yeah." Menar said, poking at his food. It took Vaxel a moment to comprehend. "Oh, yeah...So, what exactly happened?"

They ate and talked quitely in their little corner, perhaps for the first time in their lifetimes there. The day gave way to night and the other students piled out, silence gradually becoming stronger until there was only their two voices that broke it. Soon after they were the only ones left, one of the cooks came out to collect their trays.

She walked up to them unnoticed, looking grungy and tired. "I'm glad you boys are behaving civil-like today and not throwing your food at each other." she smiled, collecting their trays. They immediately became quiet when they realized that she was there. She saw their austere faces. "Yeah, thanks. The food was really good. Hit the spot." Vaxel reclined, patting his stomach.

"Something wrong boys?" she said glancing between them. "It's personal." Menar said. She lowered her gaze at him. "Alright, if you guys need anything, just let us know. Do you feel like some dessert?" Vaxel nodded, Menar shook his head. "Alright, I'll be right back with some pumpkin pie. I hope you two work it out, whatever it is." She turned to go. "Thank you." Menar called. She waved over her shoulder dissmisively.

When she was out of sight, Vaxel began to twitch. He realized he was trying to surpress laughter. Menar hit him hard. "Shut up! She's just trying to help!" Vaxel put his head down and put his fist in his mouth, making strange slobbering sounds as his spit splashed between his knuckles. Menar smiled and felt his heart lighten for the first time since the meeting he attended. He was so gross.

"Alright, if you're going to be like that, then I'm up and out." Menar said, starting to get up. Vaxel shot up and grabbed his wrist, his face red. "No, stay until I finish. I'll be lonely!" Menar pulled free of him. "Your seclusion is brought by your spite." he said. Vaxel grinned and giggled.

Menar turned and left him there and heard him call him an inappropriate name. Menar's smile widened a little more, his heart lifted. He was such a fool, but such a good friend. Menar walked around the torchlit corridors with the occasional soldier passing by.

*Everything was quite and peaceful. He felt the familiar fondness for the Sanctuary that he had felt since he could remember. He moved through them as if in a dream. He turned corners until he turned the same corner that lead to the Learning Courtyard that he had passed for enlightenment so many times, and he saw the door to the courtyard open. He wasn't sure what lead him here.

He could barely see the shoulders of two soldiers standing guard at the door. Menar walked through it, ignoring the stares he felt on his back, gazing up at the stars that winked down at him. Everything was so familiar, but so different. He knew change was coming. It didn't seem threatening, though. Somehow, he sensed that his beginning was coming for him. The full moon shone down upon him, casting down it's spotlight as it reguarly did upon him. He felt pressured by forces he couldn't see.

He felt it there, the presence of God. It wasn't like anything he had ever experienced before. It wasn't startling or frightening, as he may have thought. It was the heavy air weighing down gently on him, the whisper of the wind in his ear,- it was heavenly, and he knew that He was with him. Menar stood there with his arms outstreached, feeling more spiritual, more tranquil than he had ever been in his entire life. He felt at peace, open to the universe.

Suddenly, his vision came. People dying, tearing, slashing, burning- all the horrors of hell unleashed upon the earth. He was aware he was on his knees. Tears filled his eyes again, but he wasn't afraid. Menar knew it was coming, he knew he had to make his choice; he couldn't wait for others to make it for him and leave it to chance that they were right.

He heard one of the guards beginning to walk briskly over to him. He got up and turned slowly, walking back calmly to his room to sleep. He passed the guards, the tears in his eyes finally falling. He smiled at them, and they stared at him with a look he didn't understand, but didn't need to; he had everything that he needed.


	6. Chapter 6: Heartbreaking Horror

_Chapter Six_

_**Heartbreaking Horror**_

Menar awoke. The cieling greeted him to a cold day. Even under the compression of his covers he felt cold; He did not feel that familar warmth that he felt last night. _'It's Halloween,' _he thought, _'My seventeenth birthday,'_ He sat there, staring at the cieling. He realized that this would probably be the last time he did. When the attack happened, the students will be forced to evacuate, reguardless of the regulations that limited them to being without action. Until then, he had no sense of purpose. He knew that he must help, somehow, someway.

Menar swung his legs over the bed, saying a silent prayer for those who would lose their lives, dying to protect themselves and others. When it happened, he must fight, no matter how strong they were or how impossible it seemed. Menar made that vow to himself then and there and touched his feet to the cold floor, reality setting in the falseness of dreams, but he would not allow himself be tainted by that reality.

He looked at his time candle, which had completely run out, leaving nothing but melted wax. The candle itself was gone. He rose and walked to his small dresser and dressed, grabbing what was left of his money and some other knick-knacks he did not want to part with. Menar saw his parents letter at the bottom of the dresser. He picked it up tenderly and slipped it inside of his largest pocket, patting it down securely.

Menar didn't hear anything today, eerily adding to the effect of the foggy Halloween morning, and leaving it to the mind to create sick fantisies of some horrors and frights that may or may not be lurking just around the corner. Menar couldn't help but feel the depression of the weather and the circumstances at hand.

He walked out of his room and down the halls. The festival would start around six. As much as he wanted for others to enjoy the last hours of the day in the world they lived in, he wanted the Heartless to attack before the festival, so that less people would be hurt. He wondered what the Elite would do in prepiration for the attack on the city. He knew it would be difficult to plan for a city-wide attack on such short notice. Anyways, life has a way of not going as planned.

He walked through the Sanctuary, reminicsing on all of his memories of the place he knew he wouldn't see again for a long time, but he promised himself that he would return. Although the presence he felt from last night was gone, he could still feel the change coming; it was as thick as the air, pressing down on his lungs and making it hard to breathe. He had no doubts that it would be great, life-changing. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be thrust into it, but he knew he didn't have choice. _'"It is more obvious that you are destined for great things.'' _he recalled Headmaster Ulrik saying.

Menar felt sick. He looked out one of the glassless windows at the town, mulling about. From what he could see, it was barely breathing life. He turned away from it walked further down the hallway. '_What if I have to hurt someone?_' he thought with a shudder. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to do it. He knew that if he was to join the Elite, because he didn't think he had it in him to hurt anyone. Then again, he didn't think he could let the Heartless tear apart his hometown either.

Menar saw several people walk by, grinning and, some, wearing costumes. Some displaying bright, hopeful colors, but most of them displayed ones of morbid fright. He couldn't stand to look at them. With a heavy heart, Menar walked out of the Sanctuary and sat in the front of it near a small pond. He stared into the water. The calm winds of the new morning rippled the water in patterns and stung his cheeks.

He looked at his own reflection, nothing special. He had an ordinary face, brown hair, hazel eyes-nothing remarkable. He thought about the Elite. How could he be one of them, looking like he was? How did Vaxel even say he looked different? '_What will they do to me if I refuse to kill? They could charge me with treason._' Menar had heard once of such a case. He touched the water. '_A soldier..._' he looked at his face. He had always held soldiers with such respect and regard. They seemed so rightous to him, but he didn't see that in himself, though not because he thought he was a heathen. What had he done to deserve such a title? It had more to do with just being smart-it had so much more...

He picked at a rock in the ground until it came loose and threw it in the middle of the pond. He remembered the first time he had met Vaxel. When he was about five, he was sitting here, pretty much like he was now. He was thinking that no one liked him, because he had just gotten into a fist-fight with someone.

He was sitting there, just staring into the water, when Vaxel came up behind him and asked him 'What's wrong with you?' Menar remembered telling him, 'No one likes me here.' 'I like you,' he said. Menar looked at him sadly. 'No, you don't, you're just saying that.' Vaxel suddenly charged up behind him and pushed him into the pond. Menar stood up in the water, shocked. Vaxel laughed. 'See? I wouldn't do that to just anyone!' he offered Menar and hand and he pulled him in with him.

He smiled at the memory. '_Good times go so fast._' he thought. He turned his head on his knees, staring at a couple walking along the sidewalk, obviously in love with each other, because they looked at each other and kissed, smiling. Menar felt his own smile slip. He never felt such mixed emotions before.

He sat there like that for a long time. It was a while before he heard soft footsteps behind him. He didn't look behind him to see who it was; he knew it was Vaxel. "I thought I might find you here when you weren't at breakfast or in your room." He sat down beside him, jumping a little at the sudden coldness on his bottom. "Damn, that's cold!" "Not if you've been sitting here for a while." Menar mumbled.

They were quiet. "Happy Birthday, by the way." Menar chuckled. "I suppose. You know, why does this have to happen? All the violence? We've never really bothered anyone, the town I mean." Vaxel didn't answer; he knew he wasn't really supposed to. After all the years Menar knew him, he found he could vent easily with him. He looked at Vaxel. "We might not come back."

Vaxel nodded. "I haven't really thought about that. Yeah, I guess you're right." He scratched his chin. "Why?" asked Menar, disbelieving. "Well, we're moving on to bigger and better things. This place might have some good memories with it, like this spot here," he didn't smile, "but we can't dwell on it or we never get anywhere. It's always up here, though." he pointed to his head.

Menar understood, but he didn't like the thought of leaving the place where he had spent most of his life. _'What did I plan to do for a job, then? Teach like Brother Paul?'_ he thought. _'No, wait. Even he was a soldier.'_ He snorted. "I guess." Menar lifted a drop of water from the pond using magic. He wished Vaxel could have seen Beth when she had changed the color of the water. He thought of trying something he never attempted before, inspired by her. Although, he was already confident that he could do it. "Wanna see something cool?" he asked, his head turning to Vaxel. He nodded. "Sure." Menar brought the drop closer to them. He brought the droplet closer to them.

He constricted the Connection in his mind and froze the droplet. Vaxel looked impressed. "That was pretty cool. How'd you do that?" Menar was aware that he was trying to get his own mind off of what would happen later today. He stayed there with Vaxel and showed him how to do it. After all, it wasn't really that difficult.

It took him a while, though not as long as Menar would have thought. When he finally had it down pat, he looked at Menar. "That would be cool if we could freeze the pond." Menar thought about it; he supposed it couldn't do any harm. It would be odd for someone, though, if they came down the path and found a frozen-over pond in the middle of fall.

Menar walked over to the other side of the lake and began the process. It seemed to be very slow moving, but maybe that was just himself thinking about how cold it was. However, it seemed to help his own Connection by understanding the coldess better. They both rounded the edge of the pond, freezing the water. The water seemed to shoot glass spikes in all direction, suspending the water in what seemed like frozen death.

When the finally finished, they looked down at their work. "Nice." Vaxel murmed. He stepped on the water. It groaned, but held firm. Menar took a step on it as well. It was a little strange, walking on ice at this time of year, but at the same time it was, as Vaxel stated, nice. When they grew tired of walking around on the water, they left it. Menar looked back at it, hoping that he would return.

Menar and Vaxel walked around the Sanctuary, unsure of what to do next. "So what was in that package?" Vaxel threw Menar a confused look. "What?" "You know, the one you bought yesterday in town." Vaxel shrugged. "Oh, nothing. It was just something for a stupid costume I was planning on wearing." Menar smiled. "Why did you waste your money if you were going as yourself?" Vaxel laughed.

"That was a good one. I'm glad to see you got some of your humor back. I was starting to miss that." They turned down the path around a corner and saw Megan walking towards them. Menar raised his eyebrows at the odd conicidence. She waved to him. He waved back, welcoming any distracting oppritunity to forget about what would happen later today. "Hello, Megan." he said warmly, before she even had a chance to speak.

"Oh, 'hi' there yourself! How's it going?" she smiled. Vaxel spoke quickly. "He's doing great. It's his seventeenth birthday today!" Her face fell with what appeared to be shock, then disappointment, perhaps sorrow. "Oh, your...seventeenth? That's...great. I'm happy for you." There was a pause. "Hey Vaxel, can I speak to Menar?" he stared at her, grinning. She looked at him imploringly. "Alone. Please?" His look softened.

"Oh, alright." he began to walk away, muttering something about having to walk away all the time. "Take it easy." Menar knew that kind of tone, the kind he spoke when he ment more than what he said. Menar had an idea of what was about to come, too. Megan waited until Vaxel was out of eyesight. They stood there in the silence for a moment. Suddenly, she threw herself at him, kissing him.

Menar reflexively caught her. Stunned, he didn't push her away at first. After the inital shock wore off, he pulled away. "Megan!" he said, surprised. "I'm sorry, but I like you. No, I'm not sorry." she looked into his eyes, searching him. "Megan," he repeated, at a loss for words. "I like you, Menar." she said tenaciously, "Oh, please go to the Festival with me!"

Menar took a step back. "I can't!" he exclaimed. "Oh, yes you can! It won't be hard! You see we can just-" "No, Megan! We can't. I mean," he searched his frantic mind. "I'm already going with Claire...sort of." he softened the lie. She took a step towards him. "No, that's different, that's just a friendship kind of thing. You see we-" She stopped as Menar shook his head. How could she be so bold?

"No, Megan. I know what you're getting at, but it won't work. I don't even really know you!" She wrung her hands, still penetrating him with her stare. "It could! It could! I-" "No," he said. Tears filled her eyes. He wouldn't allow himself to succum to her. If he did, he would just be giving her false hope of something he really didn't want to do. "Look, I don't think of you softly. Besides, I'm leaving. We can still be-."

Tears finally fell, but her face turned stone cold. She turned angrily and left. "Friends," Menar whispered. He never felt such mixed emotions before. He felt light-headed, but at the same time, it felt swollen. He clenched his jaw and walked into the Sanctuary, thinking about what all of that was about. '_She knew that I was going to be leaving soon._' he thought. He walked around mindlessly.

"Is everything alright?" a familiar voice asked him. He turned around to see the Headmaster, walking just ahead of him. "It's...it's personal." he said, pushing it down. He looked at him. "Is it something you would like to talk about?" Menar almost, reflexively, said 'no', but then he decided now would be the time to ask about his parents. He the familar sensation of anger blossom in his chest. "Talk? Yes, let's 'talk'." he said with an obvious edge he knew the Headmaster would recognize.

With a gesture, he showed him down the hall. After awhile, they stopped outside of his door. He pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. The door swung open and he went inside, motioning for Menar to follow. "Come in." he said. Menar took one step across the doorway. He watched the Headmaster walk to the seat behind his desk. It was only when he sat down that he noticed Menar was still standing in the doorway.

"You may sit anywhere you like. Happy birthday, by the way." he said. Menar waited a moment before he began to walk to the chair in front of the desk. He paused, then turned back and pushed the door. He walked back to the chair and it shut loudly, echoing off the walls. Menar plopped down in the chair. "What can I help you with?" An uncomfortable silence followed. Menar contemplated his question carefully. With each passing moment of looking into his eyes, Menar's anger swelled. He finally spoke. "Where were you?"

The Headmaster furrowed his brow, but smiled. "Well, I was in my office for most of the morning. Then later I headed into town and picked up-" "No," Menar said calmly, "that's not what I mean." His smile dwindled. "Then what _do_ you mean?" Menar glared at him. "Oh, you know." Neither one of them spoke. Menar knew he would have to put it in laymans terms.

"Where were you all of my life?" Menar watched him carefully now, preparing. Ulrik's face broke from confusion and into the clarity of realization. "Ah, yes." Menar said tauntingly, nodding his head slowly. "Menar, I knew your father. When he-" "No!" Menar barked, his voice reverberating off the walls and hitting Ulrik a second time. "I don't want the scripted answer. Where were you?" he repeated.

"Menar, I'm trying to tell you. I-" "No!" he shouted. "I don't want that!" Ulrik squinted at him. "What do you want, then?" Menar looked at him, incrediously. "I want the truth." he said simply. Ulrik stared at him a moment before nodding, some kind of offense fading from his eyes. "Okay, okay, we've reached an understanding." he paused, thinking of his words. "I know I haven't always been physically there for you," Menar grunted in affirmation, "but I have always made sure that you were alright and taken care of."

"I don't need that!" Menar spat. "The worst danger I have ever been in was a fist fight. The worst horror I have ever seen before all of this started was a scuffle. I didn't need that before! What I had needed then, what I had so desprately craved for was someone I could look up to, a parental figure."

Ulrik nodded. "Go on." Menar didn't plan on stopping; it was his turn to talk now. "You _know_ I have lived a sheltered life. I didn't need any protection-the Sanctuary offered that to me. This establishment raised me. You were supposed to be my godfather." Ulrik started. "But I am!"

"No! You're not!" Menar leaned on the edge of his seat, staring straight at him. "You were supposed to be! What have you done for me all of these years?" He paused. Ulrik did not speak. "Exactly. I am not your instrument, I am not your prodige, I am not your son." Ulrik appeared confused. "What are you saying? Are you saying I was the one to-? No, you were _selected_ to join the Elite."

"People have a choice. What if I choose not to join the Elite?" Ulrik shook his head. "You do not have a choice." Menar's eyes widened; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean I don't have a choice!? Of course I have a choice!" "That's not what I mean!" Ulrik said hastily. "I mean that, sometimes, things are out of our control. You may have already thought of a profession that you wanted, but your talents are too valuable to be misplaced. I'm just saying that sometimes life has a way of not going as planned."

Menar shuddered a little. "Whatever. What do you know about my parents?" he didn't expect much of an answer, and wasn't surprised with the one he recieved. "Aside from what I told you?" "Yes," Menar hissed. "What do you know?" Ulrik held up his hands. "I know nothing more." "That's a lie!" Menar declared. Ulrik raised his voice loudly. "That is a treacherous offense, boy! You think of me wrong!"

"Then tell me then, how am I to think of you?" Ulrik didn't answer. "You seem to know a lot more than you tell, Ulrik." Menar felt a sensation at calling him by his name, but Ulrik just glared at him, trying to restrain himself. "I may not get the answers I seek today, I may not get them from you, but damn it I will have them!" Menar arose from his chair and headed towards the door.

"It may be my birthday, but it isn't a happy one. Thanks anyways." he said sarcastically, waving his hand briefly over his shoulder. He couldn't find anything else to do, and he didn't want to be bothered, so he returned to the seclusion of his room to brood on what had just happened, about Megan, and about the horrendious atrocity that would befall the poor, unfortunate city of Cajoi.

__ __

* * *

Menar knew it was almost time for the students to be released for the festival; he could see a mass of young people outside of his window. They gathered by the front gates, waiting for their usual addressment. He gazed down upon the witches, sorcerers, and strange creatures. When he looked beyond them and into town, he saw that it was, unsurprisingly infested with people partying and celebrating.

Menar turned away from his window and made sure that he had every thing that he did not want to part with, double-checking his parents letter. Menar took one last look at the room and left it. He walked outside and saw that it had cleared up remarkably from the morning. The sun felt good on his skin, warming him. He joined the few hundred people that had gathered. He wondered if this were all of the students in the Sanctuary.

After a while, he noticed Ulrik was walking to the front of the crowd. Menar felt immediate, total disgust. What would have been a rare, looked-forward-to appearence was spoiled since the day before yesterday. He held his hands high, signifying that they should be quiet. The noise gradually dwindled down. Of course there were always a few people coughing, sneezing, or rustling about, the usual, constant noise that interuppted what should have been absolute silence. It never ended either. That annoyed Menar.

He wondered what he was going to say. He didn't have to wait much longer. "Attention, everyone! Weh have a very exciting event coming up, I know, but there are a few ground rules we need to go over before I can officaly release you to attend the festival." The crowd cheered, save for Menar. Ulrik waited for the cheers to subside before he continued. "Alright, now. First of all, all persons under the age of sixteen must be inside of the Sanctuary _before _nine thirty." Several of the people groaned. "As always, do not do anything that would reflect poorly upon this establishment or your community. Be careful and have good fun. Again," he pause for emphasis, "abide by these rules and be safe. In the matter of any emergency, everyone is to report back here." there wasn't much reaction from the crowd. "Have fun. Dismissed." People rushed out of the gates, eager to begin the festivities.

Menar walked coolly behind all of them. He wondered where Vaxel was. He passed the Headmaster. Ulrik made eye contact with him and nodded in acknowledgement to him. "I will be around." Menar nodded to him as well. He walked into town, not bothering to participate in the activities or specticles, preferring to just observe. Menar walked and puzzled over Ulrik. How could he even expect to be his godfather if he was the charge of three hundred plus kids?

"Menar!" someone shouted. He turned towards the noise, which didn't help his case much, because there was plenty of noise. A finger tapped his back. He whirled around and was face to face with Claire. "Hey! What's up?" she said energetically. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking." She beamed at him. "Oh, well you can think while you celebrate and play some games!" She pulled him off in a direction. "Yeah, celebrate." He mumbled.

It took a few minutes for him to appreciate the situation. While he was with her, he could protect her from any danger. "I'm glad I caught you," she said. "We're going to have such a great time." She continued to talk, but Menar could only half hear her above the crowd. "Let's go in here." she said. Menar didn't notice the sign that hung above the door, but he didn't really care.

He let Claire drag him to all sorts of places. Ordinarily, he would have loved to be with her, but this wasn't an ordinary time. Though, he did notice how remarkible it was that this was the most they had ever spent time conversing with each other. Well, Claire doing most of it.

As they traveled from place to place, it wasn't difficult to notice the increase in guards about. Although this was to be expected at such a festivity, people also noticed that a good number of the guards weren't from the town. Menar knew where they were from, though he knew that most people, including those who attended the Sanctuary, did not recognize the Elite soldiers.

He eyed them, studing their behavior and formulating an idea of what he would become. They acted as soldiers should, not like the display of the one guard in particular he saw the other day. Menar tried to shake that impression the guard had set. Though he did not go into town often, he knew the majority of the guards did not cause such a disturbance, which is why he tried not to be surprised the town's guards were behaving themselves.

Claire let out a shriek. Menar snapped his attention to her, tension racking his body. She sprinted from him and embraced another. Menar relaxed. The person she was hugging was not someone he had recognized. She brought the young girl to Menar. "Hey, Menar, this is my friend Caitlyn, Katie for short." she introduced. Caitlyn, smiled shyly and whispered something in her ear.

Claire gasped. "No!" she said. Menar felt curious. "What?" he asked. Claire shook her head. "Oh, nothing. It's nothing." Menar felt a tinge of annoyance. "Hey! You with the face!" someone shouted Menar turned around and saw Vaxel pushing his way towards him. Menar smiled toothily. "You mean my face?" he asked when Vaxel was close enough to hear without him having to shout.

"Of course I mean your face! I've been lookin all over for you." he noticed Claire and Katie. He waved to them. "Hi." he said. Claire waved back, Katie looked down the ground. Vaxel turned to him. "Now I see why you didn't wait up for me." Menar raised an eyebrow. "Wait up for you? I was the very last one to leave the gate!" Vaxel contorted his face. "Well, you're too slow; you should have hurried up."

"Hey," Vaxel said, patting Menar's chest. "Let's go and throw stuff at the people in the stocks. It'll be a riot. Well, it's already turning into one." Vaxel waved to someone a good distance away, though he did not see who it was. "That's not humane!" Claire burst. "That's sick and for people who are sick! It promotes abuse and mistreatment of others." Menar suddenly felt the familar fondness of Claire. She caught his gaze. He quickly looked away.

"Then call me dumb! It's all good, clean fun anyways." Claire rolled her eyes. "Yeah, so are fights." she said sarcastically. Vaxel smiled. "You say that like it's a bad thing!" She looked at Vaxel surprised, then looked at Menar. "What can I say? He has a not-so-unusual-anymore sense of humor for the misfortune of others." Menar said simply.

Claire looked defeated. "Well, alright. We'll go too, if you want us to." Vaxel patted Menar on the back. "Sure, it'll be like a double-date." Menar felt himself blush, but he couldn't help to mentally call dibs on Claire. He kicked himself for thinking such thoughts. He needed to keep his wits about him when the attack did happen. He couldn't allow himself to enjoy the activities; it would put him off-guard.

They went to the stocks to throw vegitables, that he had to pay for, at the persons in the stocks, who shouted taunts and jeers at the crowd. Claire must have taken this as a sign of their good humor, because she decided to throw one as well. They continued to participate in the activites. When Menar could finally whisper to Vaxel without being noticed or overheard by the girls, he warned him to be on the lookout for the Heartless.

He nodded and didn't say anything else on the matter. When nine thirty approached, Menar was grateful that the attack hadn't happened yet, so that the younger ones could be inside of the Sanctuary, though he was throughly surprised. There wasn't much time left for them to attack. He hadn't consider the possibilty that his vision could be wrong until now. He wondered what would happen if it was. Would everything he had learned, about his parents, about the Elite, be one complete accident? He would be embarassed, though he had not idea why he should be.

Time continued to pass. Katie had left to latch onto another group of friends and left Claire with Menar and Vaxel. He wondered why she didn't go and look for any of her other friends. Menar wanted so badly to enjoy the time he was spending with her, but he must maintain constant vigilance if he was to protect her. She began to notice that he was not fully into it. She asked several times if everything was alright, but he had just smiled and nodded. Vaxel nudged him as if to tell him not to look so obvious.

Menar made as though he was having a good time, which wasn't hard to do. What _was _hard to do, was not to actually get to submirged into the celebration. An hour passed, then two. It was eleven thirty. Halloween was almost over. He looked up at the full moon. He wondered if they would attack soon. He continued to look at the moon, entranced. He felt something prodding at his conciousness. It wasn't like anything he felt before. He cringed from it. It felt so...alien, like it wasn't his own. He feared the unknown touch. He wondered if it was another vision coming on.

He stared at the moon. If it was, it was probably worth seeing. Before he could fully consent to submit himself to whatever it was that was tugging at his conciousness, he was pulled into it. He could see nothing at first, only blackness. Then, he could see several people, but he wasn't in the town. He was near the peak of a hill. The people that were below him wore black robes and armor. A cruel smile played upon his lips.

"My brothers," his voice spoke gruffly, yet placidly, in a dreadful voice that was clearly not his own. "This night will be a great victory for our family. Tonight is the time we that marks the beginning, the beginning to take what is rightfully ours. This is a night that will live forever. We are at our most powerful tonight, dear brothers. Halloween is here, blurring the thin line between the spirit world and ours, the full moon shining down upon us in all of her mysterious glory. We take this night for ourselves."

He looked down at them all. He felt an unfamilar emotion sweep accross him, but he knew the word for it- bloodlust. Though, it wasn't an emotion, it felt as though he needed it. He gazed down upon them. "We must succeed in our attack, for we can not fail. Today is thier end, our beginning." He drew his glimmering sword. The vast army of soldiers below him did so as well. "This is a marvelous day for our family! One that we have been waiting a long time for. Let's not screw it up!"

Menar felt a pressure on his shoulder. He looked to see who was holding him up. It was not Vaxel, as he dully thought. It was Ulrik. His eyes frantically searched around him. He looked up at the moon. "Menar! What did you see?" Menar didn't bother to ask how he knew. "They're coming." he whispered, feeling drained. Ulrik stared at him piercingly. "Now?" Menar nodded. Ulrik spoke quickly. "Find anyone you recognize from the Sanctuary and order them to go back." Menar stood there. "Now!" Ulrik shouted.

Ulrik swept his hand across the air and a bright red explosion, like a flare, sparked the sky, appearing to set it aflame. At the same time, a battlehorn sounded. Menar snapped out of his trance. He realized Vaxel and Claire were beside him. "What happened?" Claire looked horrified, sensing the danger. Vaxel didn't have to ask. "Claire, we have to go back to the Sanctuary right now!" Claire looked at Menar with concern. "Take her!" Menar shouted. Vaxel grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from him. She protested and tried to pull away from him, but without success. He ran along the road screaming to everyone of the impending danger. Everything was in chaos. People sprinted screaming, searching for loved ones or just fleeing in terror. The guards were shouting orders to the crowd and each other, fighting to be heard over the raucous.

Menar continued his task. He shouted it in the streets for several minutes. Then, he saw them in person, the Heartless. They were killing innocent citizens and guards. Most of the townspeople fell back, some staying to fight with improvised weapons. Menar knew he must fight too. He was not skilled with a blade, and though he didn't know the extent of their magic, he knew he must try to use his own magic against them.

Menar focused on a Heartless that was battling a man who seemed to be losing. Menar felt his Connection, stronger than he had ever felt it before. He thrust his hand at the Heartless soldier, his head jerked suddenly. He saw him stunned at the sudden, unseen attack. The man fighting him swung the lumber he held in a high arc and crashed it down upon his head, knocking him to the floor.

Menar heard someone scream and whirled around to see Megan, running down a narrow ally, away from a sorcerer. He walked into the ally calmly, smiling wickedly. Menar cursed under his breath and threw the advancing soldiers a look of mixed hatred and horror. Menar sprinted to the allyways, pushing past the crowd. He finally reached the opening. He found the sorcerer choking her, draining the life slowly from her and breathing it in, literally. Menar saw the dagger in a seath on his hip. He grabbed it. Startled, the sorcerer let go of Megan and whirled. Menar drove the blade straight into his heart, crimson pain flowing from his chest and pouring onto Menar's trembling, but strong hands.

He watched the man die, looked into his eyes as death took him. Menar's blood ran cold, yet he never felt so alive. He didn't think that killing would be this good, yet it was so terrible at the same time. It was as if a part of him he never knew were revealing itself for the first time. The man fell slowly, staring at Menar as blood oozed from his gaping mouth, uttering a nasty gurgle. He left the dagger in him. Megan looked up at him, holding a hand around her throat. "Menar," she croaked, her eyes wide.

He turned and ran out of the ally and down the street, seeing if he could help anyone else. Menar heard someone scream to him. "Menar! Watch out!" Menar saw it from his peripheral vision as the person was saying it. He rolled sideways, avoiding a sword that came crashing down to the ground behind him.

Adrenaline motivated him. Immediately following up on his roll, he pulled a large section of compacted dirt from the ground using Earth magic. Swinging his arms and twirling them around his body like a discus thrower, he threw it at the soldier in black. The hard-as-rock dirt clod crashed against him, making him stumble heavily backwards. Brother Paul preformed a complex takedown manuver and disarmed him. Then, he impaled him with the soldier's own sword.

Menar gaped in base horror, but didn't feel bound, quite the opposite in fact. Brother Paul pulled the sword from him and ran up to Menar, who felt disturbed at the sight of him wielding a sword. "Menar! You must come with me!" He didn't give Menar time to reply. He turned and Menar followed him. "Stay close and watch my back!" Menar felt oddly proud that he was confident in his abilities.

They ran through frantic people, being overpowered by numerous Heartless soldiers and sorcerers. As they ran by a building, Brother Paul was blindsided by a soldier. He fell to the ground. Before Menar could stop and react, Brother Paul and turned the fall into a clumsy roll, narrowly avoiding falling on his sword and miraculously blocked the next, rapid attack by grabbing the Heartless's arm and punching him squarely in the face.

Menar felt himself explode. Something happened to him; something clicked. Menar nearly had no control over what followed next. He grabbed the air and pulled the guard away from Brother Paul and sent him hurtling through the air and slammed him against a the wall of a building. Things broke, and it wasn't the wall.

They continued through the city, Brother Paul attacking when he needed to (?). Menar felt as though he had tunnel vision, gliding along the ground. They had almost reached the gate of the city, when they were surrounded, trapped. Brother Paul yelled over his shoulder. "Menar, be careful!" An odd command, but one he understood.

Then, something strange happened. One of the soldiers looked into Menar's eyes. "It can't be! That's him! That's him!" he shouted sparrotically, his voice thin from shrieking. Menar looked at the others, who all seemed to be staring at him. He saw thier eyes widened in realization. "Go directly to Crual and tell him. Quickly!" '_Crual? That's one of the three founders! He's here?!' _ Menar thought. He hadn't thought of it before, but he had figured that the Founders would be holed up somewhere secure. Apparently, he was dead wrong. One of the solders fled. "You!" The leader of the squadron pointed to Brother Paul. "Step aside or you will die. Dear child," he took a step towards him, now talking to him, tenderly, as if he were, indeed, talking to a child. Menar distinctly heard someone scream. "You don't belong here. Come with us. You can come willfully and retain your dignity," his voice turned hard. "Or you will be forced.

Menar didn't understand what was going on; he didn't expect a radical, destructive cult to practice mercy. "Like hell he will!" Brother Paul shouted. He swung his blade at him, but it was hastily parried. The man gave a nasty smile. "You should not have done that." he said. Brother Paul swung the blade in a dazzling combination of attacks. He struggled to fend off Brother Paul, surprised at the fighting capablities of the priest. "Take the boy! We must have the boy!" Menar felt his Connection and Willed the air to push them all back. "Don't make me kill you!" he roared. They all smiled at each other as they advanced. Brother Paul recoiled and took a step back, a momentary pause from his adversary. "Menar! Now is not the time! Fight-to-kill!" he ordered.

Menar obeyed. Strangely, he wanted to. He tossed one of them into the air and contorted him in odd ways, snapping his spine cruelly. Menar let him fall to the ground in a heap. Brother Paul cried out. Menar saw a flash of fire and the leader of the group staggered back. The rest of the soldiers closed in on the both of them. Menar, inspired, spewed gargantuan fireballs from his palms. He was almost immedately grabbed from behind. Another person grabbed his feet. "NO!" Brother Paul shrieked, his blade slicing the leader's neck and sending his head flying.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Brother Paul struggled to pass the group of soldiers that blocked him from reaching Menar as he was being dragged away. Menar looked up and saw the moon staring down at him. He no longer had any control. He felt nothing, his senses shutting down. He felt himself spiraling down into the fiery oblivon. He closed his eyes. He felt nothing. After a brief pause that seemed like an eternity, he felt something in him rise. The first thing he felt with it were the cool kisses of the air.

He felt the explosion of a sudden, gale force-wind eminating from him, knocking the people who were carrying him away far back. Menar rose into the air, hovering twenty feet above the soldiers. He could feel his pulse rhythmetically circulating the wind. He whirled his body around and formed a tornado that lifted the Heartless below him off of their feet, throwing them across the sky towards a fall that would surely be their death.

Menar reveled in their panic as the fell, knowing that death was so close, but unable to do anything about it, too weak, too pathetic. He looked down, smiling, at Brother Paul, who looked mortified. He saw a flash of green light from several different directions. One of those lights hit him, sending him spiraling down. Just before he lost conciousness, he felt the something in him click again, and he wondered where Vaxel, Claire, Megan and the rest of his friends were. Blackness blanketed his vision as he fell towards Brother Paul's outstreached arms and he knew no more.


	7. Chapter 7: Running the Road

_Chapter Seven_

_**Running the Road**_

His first impression was that he was warm. So comfortably warm in fact, that he thought he was back in his bed. His mind lolled under the blanket of sleep. He opened his eyes and looked up at a starry sky winking down at him. He couldn't see the moon past the canopy of trees that halted and left a gaping hole in their uniform cover. He wondered why he was outside. He moved to get up and his hand grazed leaves.

He remembered it all in a flash, but with unusual difficulty; he felt drugged. "It's about time you woke up." He looked over to find the source of the disembodied voice. He saw Brother Paul looking at him. Though he couldn't see his face, because of the quietly burning fire behind him, he knew his silloutte. "What-what happened?"

Brother Paul didn't say anything for a long time. He looked out into the forest. "You'll have to be more specific than that, I'm afraid. Many things happened since you've been asleep." Menar thought of another question. "Asleep? How long have I-?" "About three days." he interuppted. Menar threw the covers off of himself. "What happened to everyone!?" he exclaimed. "Are they alright?" Brother Paul moved over to the fire. He didn't notice before that something was cooking on it. "Are you hungry?" His stomach growled. "What happened to everyone else?" he persisted. Brother Paul stirred whatever was in the pot. His face blank and emotionally vacant in the warm light the fire cast.

"Well, I don't know _exactly_ what happened to _all_ of them, but the town managed to fight them off." Menar breathed a sigh of relief. _'We managed to fight them off? But I ran,'_ he thought. _"Oh my God, I ran.' _"Is everyone okay?" Brother Paul sampled the dish. Then, he shrugged. Whether it was because of the food's taste or what Menar said, he did not know. "In a fight like that, there's going to be some casualties, Menar. You should have known that. I'm not sure how many." he added.

"Why did we run? Why didn't we fight?" Brother Paul looked perplexed, as if he were thinking heavily. "I-I've an obligation to protect the students at the Sanctuary. You were nearest to me." Menar had never, in all the time he had known him, heard him stammer. Even when he was unsure of something, he always exubed such an aura of confidence that made you believe him, want to, even. Menar knew, without any shadow of uncertainty, that he was hiding something.

A bubble of cancerous anger inflated in him. "Paul, don't." he said, sure that he knew what he ment. "Tell me." Brother Paul walked over wordlessly to a satchel that lay a ways off, gathering bowls from it. "I have never lied to you, Menar, and I do not wish to start now. Indeed, I know what you desire to hear, but I will not tell you." Menar was absolutely flabbergasted. "However, you could not have stayed in the city, even if you were back at the Sanctuary." "Well, why not?" He spat. Brother Paul poured the stew into two tin bowls.

"Because of what happened when we were almost at the gate, before you lost conciousness." Menar recalled the strange reactions of the Heartless. "What about it, then?" Brother Paul looked disturbed and, possibly to buy more time, he took a large mouthful of the stew. He pointed at Menar's bowl, gesturing for him to eat. Menar took a bite, not because he felt like it, but out of respect. It tasted like rabbit, not bad for the resources at hand. "Well, apparently, they knew who you were." Menar didn't understand. He shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, but doesn't it?" Menar opened his mouth in reply. but then he thought, '_I don't have any quarrel with the Heartless, but my mother did._' he looked down at the ground. '_I have Heartless blood in me._' he thought. He remembered his parent's letter, telling him to keep his existance a secret from them. "Did they find out my mother had a baby?" Menar asked, still looking at his hands. "Now _that _wouldn't make sense." Menar looked up at him. "I read your letter Menar, several times." Before Menar could say anything, he elaborated further. "I had to know more about you, Menar, when I found out about your dreams of the Heartless. Headmaster Ulrik was the one who showed it to me."

"Where is that weasel? He is supposed to be here, not you. Though, I am glad that you are here with me." he said as an afterthought. Brother Paul took another mouthful of stew. "You have to remember, you are not his only ward. He is the charge of all of the other students at the Sanctuary." Menar couldn't believe he was taking up for him. Contempt grew in him. "I told him that I would look after you, and I have." Menar felt the sudden anger dull and turn dormant, but still very much alive. "Then he should have never accepted me from my father if he couldn't take care of me. You should have been my godfather." Brother Paul smiled painfully and looked down at the ground. "Anyways, if they would have found out that your mother had a baby, they wouldn't have known where to find you, because even your mother didn't know where you were, remember? It is safe to inferr that she feared the same thing, but it isn't at all logical that they would know your face and seek you where you were. It makes me wonder if your she knew something..."

"But what worries me the most, as I just said, was that they were looking for you. The Heartless do not ever take prisoners, only slaves. Well, in rare occasions thay do, but they would not take them during a battle. It leaves me to question their motives, especially if they were seeking revenge." He put down his bowl and scooted a little closer to the fire. He looked at Menar, very closely. He began to feel uncomfortable. "I'm not sure if this question will bring a fruitful answer, but how did you conduct that magic? You never learned that at the Sanctuary."

Menar didn't know what to say. As a matter of fact, he was right. Menar never _did _learn things like that. "I don't know, it just came to me." There was a pause. He thought about when he and Vaxel had frozen the pond. Even though he had never froze water, that was still more simple than what he did when the battle happened. Menar didn't know what else to say, so he remained silent.

Brother Paul continued to look at him. Finally, he couldn't stand it. "You said strange things happen with magic when you are emotional or something like that." Brother Paul looked confused for a moment. Then it was gone. "Oh, that. There is an incredible difference between changing the color of water and throwing half a dozen grown, armored men a hundred feet in the air while suspended in it yourself."

Menar knew he was right. "I know this may sound strange, but did you feel anything?" Menar threw him an incredious look. "Of course! I was terrified!" "No," Brother Paul said, as though he expected an answer like that. "I mean," he scrutinized Menar, "unnatural?" Menar didn't have to think long before he came up with an answer. "Sort of, but...I'm not sure." Brother Paul walked over to the sachel again, pulled out somthing, and threw it to Menar. He caught it. "Here, it's dessert. If you're still hungry, let me know." He walked back over and sat down, putting his hands near the fire. Menar didn't eat it just yet.

"What do you mean, 'sort of'? I have to know this Menar. Your life, as well as everyone's around you, depends on it." Menar didn't like the way he worded that. "It might also help provide a reason as to why they were searching for you." He looked out into the dark woods, feeling cut off completly from civilzation. He never had that feeling before, and he didn't like it. He felt alone. "I felt something in me. It," he searched for the right words a moment. "It just didn't seem to be a part of me, but it didn't feel like it was imposing. I don't know. It just felt like it was...sleeping."

Menar didn't know what to make of it. Apparently, neither did Brother Paul, for he said nothing. He wished he wouldn't have said it. The fire cackled loudly, sending embers up, seemingly in an attempt to become stars in the sky. They died before they even left the tops of the looming trees. He wondered if Vaxel, Claire, and Megan were okay. His thoughts also trailed to Bethany, so quiet and shy. How did she fare in the battle?

Again, he felt relieved the younger ones were already at the Sanctuary when the fight happened. "Lie down, Menar." Brother Paul said. Menar's thoughts were brought back to reality by the odd request. He saw that Brother Paul wasn't fooling. "But I'm not tired." he said simply, unsure what Brother Paul ment. "Just do it, please. I'm not asking you to sleep, Lord no." he chuckled a little. Menar did as he was asked. He was relaxed by his laughter, a familar beacon in these dark, unfriendly woods.

Brother Paul put his hand on Menar's forehead. For a moment, he reflected on him doing the same thing to make him relive his dream. Brother Paul waved his other hand over his heart. Menar looked at him in the face, though he didn't seem to be fully here. "Can I get up now?" "Shh!" he hushed. Menar didn't say anything else. After several moments, he released Menar, mumbling.

"What was that?" Brother Paul sat by the fire again. "Nothing." Menar narrowed his eyes at him. "No, it was something, alright. What did you do?" Brother Paul poked the fire and said nothing for a while. "I was looking to see if something was inside of you, spiritual or physical." He looked on the verge of saying something, but bit his tounge. "And?" Menar pushed. Brother Paul lay down on his blanket. "There is a potentcy of power in you. That much is evident, Menar. Though, I've always known that." He shook his head. Menar didn't feel comforted. Brother Paul seemed to sense this, because he immediately changed subject.

"Would you mind taking watch? I've been awake for most of the past three days. Besides, it will allow you to collect your thoughts and I'll answer any questions you ask in the morning. Good night." Menar looked out into the woods, paying little mind that the request wasn't an actual request. "Watch? From what?" Brother Paul looked over his shoulder, but not at Menar. "Oh, lots of things." He lay his head down. Just as Menar turned to leave, he spoke again, almost inaudibly. "Particuarly assassins." Menar didn't detect any playfulness in his voice. Troubled, he moved to the edge of the firelight. He looked down at the small candy Brother Paul had given him, unwrapped it, and ate it. He made a face, and hastily spat it out. Saltwater taffy-he hated saltwater taffy.

The woods seemed to host many more strange sounds than the Sanctuary. He couldn't hear any crickets. That's not saying there weren't any, but he could definately hear multiple other, loud creatures, most of which he did not recognize. He once even heard a wolf in the distance. Then again, nothing really sounded that far off in the woods. He constantly turned, paranoid that something was sneaking up on him.

The moon was nowhere to be found, but the stars seemed more plentiful. He thought over what had happened and what he might want to ask. '_We were already headed to the gate _before _the Heartless even made that reaction to me. Why were we running away then?_' The realization did not make him happy. '_Brother Paul said that he couldn't have stayed in the city.' _he thought._ 'Did he mean we couldn't have stayed when the Heartless saw me, or that he just couldn't stay there for what he wouldn't tell me?_ He mulled over the tecnicalities, wondering if it was a lie or not. He finally made up his mind that Brother Paul was only telling him part of the truth.

Morning came slowly, but it came. Multiple, varying colors blossomed on the canvas of the black sky, gently easing it into a glorious, glowing masterpiece. Just when he thought it was perfect, it changed again, into a more complex array of colors that seemed to radiate brillancy. Menar looked over at Brother Paul sleeping. He walked to the satchel, looking to see if he had any coffee-surely he would like some as well as Menar.

He rummaged through the bag, filled with various camping supplies. Most of it was food and silverware. Unexpectedly, he found an envelope. The envelope was neat; it was hardly crumpled at all for three days of running the road. It struck him peciluar that he would be recieving mail in the middle of nowhere. Menar glanced at Brother Paul. He turned it over and saw the letter was already opened. Although he did not normally invade other people's privacy, he felt that he had a right to know if Brother Paul was keeping something from him. He opened the letter.

_Paul,_

_ It's me. Crual led the attack on Cajoi. Intellegence recieved indicates that it was a distraction to aid in the destruction of the port. Interestingly enough, the port was not their primary objective. During the battle, it changed to locating someone. Though they did not mention whom, they went about it in most peciluar way. They're up to something, Paul. Radically changing objectives like that from destroying a major port, to find a sole person is most disturbing. We need to find out who this person is and intercept said person before the Heartless do. I'll deliver more information if and when I can. Collect at the next dead drop. Farewell._

There was no signature. Menar folded the letter back and put it into the satchel, completely forgetting about the coffee. Menar turned around. Brother Paul was standing behind him, silently watching. Startled, Menar searched for something to say. "What are you doing?" he blurted. Brother Paul walked past Menar and gently pulled the letter from him. Then he moved to the satchel and pulled the thin string, tightening it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" He held up a hand and Menar stared at him. Brother Paul equipped the satchel. "A letter for a letter. We are now even. However, I must ask you not to go through my things again."

He didn't say it angrily, as Menar expected him to. His casual tone calmed him somewhat, making his embarassment trasition into unease. Brother Paul walked over to the fire and extinguished it with magic. The fire suddenly disappeared with the softly glowing coals dying quickly. "What are we going to do now?" Menar asked. Brother Paul looked over in the distance, or rather as far as he could see in the woods. "Now, we resume our journey to Fort Hood." Menar followed him as he began walking. "Why? What's there?" Brother Paul stepped over a tree root. "The beginning of the rest of your life."

They walked through the woods. Menar didn't even ask how he knew where he was going. All of the trees looked the same to him. Gnarled and twisted as they were, they held a certain art to them. As the day grew, the forest, if possible, became more alive than it was last night, though no more animated. Except for once, when he saw a turtle. It quickly hid in it's shell when they approached. Brother Paul snorted. "That proves it." Menar continued to look at the turtle as they passed. "Proves what?" "That we all only make progress when we stick our neck out." Menar smiled. He never did stop distributing wisdom, even though they were trecking through the middle of God-knows-where.

Going through the woods proved to be more difficult than Menar initally thought. Had he known that this is where he would have ended up this morning, though he had no way of knowing that he would be in a coma for three days, he would have dressed more appropriately, because this clearly wasn't working out. "Brother Paul?" "Hmm?" "Did you carry me all of this way?" Brother Paul bent down to look at a creek. "Of course I did. It's unfortunate that you aren't a sleep walker, or we may have already been there." Menar smiled. "So, have you thought of any questions that you wanted to ask me?" Menar liked that about Brother Paul. As nonchalant as he was, he was always to the point.

Brother Paul hopped across the stream. Menar followed and leaped. "No." Brother Paul looked back at him. Menar's smile broadened. "Nah, of course I did." Brother Paul tried to hide his smile, but without success. "I should have anticipated that. Alright, what is it?" As he continued to walk, his smile vanished. "When we were in the city, we were running towards the gate _before _those Heartless recognized me. Why were we running out?" Brother Paul didn't miss a beat. "Because there is nothing further for you at the Sanctuary. You're going to be Knighted into the Elite, so going to the Sanctuary was a waste of time and a hazard to your saftey. It also it trails back to 'I can't tell you'." he added hesitantly.

Menar had a feeling about that. Surprisingly, he didn't mind it all that much, coming from Brother Paul. Though he was still curious, he didn't think he would hide any crucial secrets from him. However, Menar still wondered. "What about my Crusader test?" Brother Paul laughed, his voice echoing briefly. "Well, I'd say you did more in the city than any test could. Education is different from practicality. I'd say you passed with flying colors, even though you did go about it in a way I've never seen anyone your age do before." Menar knew he was referring to his strange use of magic. "School gives you the lesson, then the test. Life gives you the test, then the lesson. Yes, I'd say that you did better on that test than most would have fared."

Menar was flattered. "I was especially surprised when you rolled away from the attack coming out of the ally. I know you aren't trained in physical combat. That's one of things you will do up at Fort Hood. Keep your insticts sharp." There was a brief pause. "Oh, I'm forgetting to let you ask other questions, aren't I?" Menar looked around. It didn't look as though they had moved much, but his aching legs argued otherwise.

"How do you know that Cajoi's defense was successful if we have been traveling for the past few days?" He asked. "Because I talked to Ulrik." Menar felt his eyebrows soar. "So he was here? I thought you said he had to take care of the students at the Sanctuary?" Brother Paul shook his head. "No, not in person, Menar. I contacted him through Scrying. It's a form of Spirit magic that allows two people to talk." "Oh," Menar said. The trees seemed to become more dense. He thought he could see lights. "Is that a city?" Brother Paul sighed. "Somewhat. It's a village called Navaje. Troublesome place. We're going to make a pitstop there and be quickly on our way. Quickly." he reiterated.

Menar nodded even though Brother Paul couldn't see him. "So, why am I going to fight the Heartless when they are looking for me? I-," Menar hesitated. "From the letter I read this morning, it sounded like they didn't know I was there, but they changed why they were there to take me. That seems awfully strange. Why face them when they are looking for me?" Menar felt like a coward for saying such a thing, but he needed to know if the roots of the question had any hold on Brother Paul. "Because, it's about the greater good, it always has been. Ever since the creation of earth." Menar knew that. He kicked himself for asking.

He could almost clearly distinguish the city now. Pillars of smoke and glowing windows were visible; the canopy of trees faltering and becoming more sparse by the moment. "'Intercept' me? What did that mean?" Brother Paul was quiet, thinking. "The person who wrote that letter doesn't know what I know- that it was you they were looking for. We communicate through letters." he explained. "Why?" Menar inquired. "Because," Brother Paul said. "Magic disturbs the natural flow of things. In other words, it's tracable. I only contacted Ulrik through Scrying because I had no other way of contacting him." he hesitated.

"The students of the Sanctuary are all right and were under orders to be evacuated to a nearby city. He's going to come down to Navaje and guide you the rest of the way to Fort Hood." Menar silently. "I don't want him to." Brother Paul pushed past a small brush and Menar could see the city not too far ahead. "I'm sorry, Menar, but I have no say in this. It's not that I don't want to go with you, but I can't." he said, shrugging his shoulders. Menar stopped. The way he assumed it was a-matter-of-fact and unimportant detail didn't fail to elude his anger. It actually strengthened it, like feeding a fire. "Why?" Brother Paul continued for a moment and stopped, realizing he wasn't following him.

He turned around to face Menar, slowly, reluctantly. "I just can't Menar, let's leave it at that. I know you want me to remain with you, but it wouldn't help any. Besides, this will give you a chance to ask him any unrestrained questions that you may have." Menar sneered. "Do you think that your presence would invoke some sort of peace between us?" he knew he was being overly-critical to him, but he couldn't help the anger that flowed through him. "Brother Paul, Ulrik and I spoke. He isn't giving me the answers I want- that I'm entitled to." He looked Brother Paul square in the eyes as he said this. "I must know who my parents are and what happend to them. I won't rest until I do."

Brother Paul sighed and muttered under his breath. "Well, this city may hold some answers for you." Menar was confunded. "What are you talking about?" He motioned for Menar to follow. "It's best for you to see for yourself." Menar trailed behind him, firing off several questions, but each one shot down. He finally didn't say anything, choosing, eventually, to walk in silence.

The city approached them more rapidly than Menar thought it should. Now that it held a closer proximity to him, it's glowing windows and milling people no longer appeared to be a respite from the woods. The houses and shops seemed menacing and the fog that clung the city seemed to supress all the light in the world, pressuring down any uplifting thoughts and making sure they were buried into the ground. Menar tried to attain an unbiased perspective, but it proved difficult. The city clearly had it's mingle of higher class and the lower class- with a clearly distinguishable ratio. Menar and Brother Paul closed upon the gates and entered, allowing Menar to look about the town from the inside.

It wasn't noisy like Cajoi, though it didn't have as many people in the streets as there were homes. Many of the people in it looked like they didn't even want to be out in the streets. Most of them looked down, but Menar caught the eye of an occasional few. When he gave a smile, they looked away, muttering something unintelligble, one with an accent Menar wasn't familar with. With each passing moment they spent in the city of Navaje, he felt increasingly isolated. The dark woods themselves seemed more friendly and inviting than this place.

"Where are we going?" Menar asked. Brother Paul gave him a look, then turned his attention back to the rocky street beneath him, just like the others. It was remarkable how quickly he could adapt to his surroundings. He wondered if that was part of his training as an Elite. "It would be best to keep our voices down." he mumbled. "This city isn't well-known for it's hospitality towards strangers." Menar furrowed his brow and rubbed his arms to keep warm. It seemed so much colder here. "You'd think it would be a more desirable town than this. It's nice and all, but-"

Suddenly, Brother Paul grabbed his arm, almost painfully so. "Be quiet!" he hissed. Menar was surprised. "That is one thing you need to learn. In some situations, it is best to let silence speak for you. You must remember, not many know where we are going and they don't need to. So, for now, we have nothing to talk about." Brother Paul released his grip on Menar's arm, who took a small step away from Brother Paul. "We're going to resupply and rest. We will meet Ulrik later on this afternoon." Menar and Brother Paul passed by a shady group, who were eyeing them unessicarily.

"Alright. That's fine." Menar said passively. Brother Paul gave a weak smile, as if apologizing for being so unnerving, but gave no other indication for regret. "I sure hope so, because that's the way it is." Brother Paul gestured towards a shop. "We'll get everything we need from there. Then, we'll rent a room and wait for Ulrik to show." Menar squinted up at the sign. It read in thin, wirey cursive, "Organ's General Supply Shop" Although it looked like a decent place to shop, Menar couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong about it. He didn't believe that his gut feeling was misplaced either. As they went into the shop, it did nothing but confirm what he thought.

There were some things that seemed innocent enough. Food, some clothing, drink-but there were also some things that seemed out of place, things that seemed like they didn't belong, things that could have, and probably did, just come off of the street. Brother Paul led the way to the front counter as Menar looked around the place carefully. It seemed as though there were no living soul inside of the store besides the two of them. Menar looked behind the counter and saw a doorway leading into another room. He wondered if the clerk was back there.

Brother Paul waited beside him patiently. Menar waited with him for a while. Then, he quickly grew irritated. He was about to ring the service bell in front of him, but Brother Paul looked at him from the corner of his eye wordlessly, but Menar knew what he was about to say. He tried, with increasing difficulty, not to become irritated with Brother Paul as well. Finally, after a few, long minutes, a man came from the back room and looked at him, wiping his hands on his pants with what appeared to be black oil or perhaps charcoal. "What?" he said gruffly. Menar wasn't surprised by his curtness. His beard grew out wildly and his muscles seemed to bulge from the shirt he was wearing. He was bald, something that Menar did not see often for men his age. He surpressed a laugh.

"Yes, sir. We need to procure supplies for a trip that will take approximately one day's travel." He grunted. "Well, get it yerself. I ain't yer mother." He turned his back to them and began sorting out things on the shelves, muttering and shaking his head. Menar looked at Brother Paul, who held no reaction at all. Brother Paul turned on his heel and went near the front where the food was. He just stood there, unbelieving. Menar couldn't believe that he took that like that! Didn't he even think what he could be capable of? "Hey, and I wouldn't get no sticky fingers if I was yerself!" he called. Menar hadn't moved except for when he looked back at the man. The bulky man glared down icily at Menar. He didn't take his cold, green eyes off of him as Menar held his glare, going to the front, but not turning his back to him.

The man smiled crookedly and snorted just before he lost sight of him behind a shelf. Menar turned to find Brother Paul immediately in front of him. He jumped, almost bumping into him. Brother Paul didn't even flinch. "How long is this going to take? I want to leave this place as soon as we possibly can." Brother Paul picked up a small jar filled with something unidentifiable. Menar made a face. "What do these people eat? "You mean like the gentleman up front there? But he seems like such a nice fellow." He murmered. Menar looked at him. With the way he said it, he wasn't sure if he was joking. Then, he shook his head.

"It's not just him. It's this whole creepy town." Brother Paul walked further down the aisle, extending his arm and placing the jar back. "You sure don't act like you like it, Menar. Niether do the people here." Menar furrowed his brow. "Then why don't they move?" Brother Paul glanced at Menar, then up front, before returning his attention to some food. "Like in Cajoi, they are too poor. However, this is a slum town. All the integrated cultures live here for cheap. The people back in Cajoi aren't anywhere near as," he paused. "well, you've seen the difference in personalities. It's more hostile here, something I know you aren't accustomed to, but you will come to learn that the world is vicious, evil place." Menar looked a small amulet. He wondered if it was stolen from someone. He frowned.

"Besides," said Brother Paul, turning around and walking towards the front with a few jars Menar had not seen him grab. He talked more quietly as they approached the counter. "The people here are from different cultures and religions and they don't share the same views. It's becoming more and more like that, Menar." The man at the counter looked at Menar with clear disgust. "Will that be all?" he said in a bass voice. Menar locked his jaw. He didn't like him at all. If he was trying to be intimidating, it wasn't working. "Yes." Brother Paul said. He shook his hairless head. "No, I saw the kid stuff his pockets with something, and you're going to pay for it."

Brother Paul glanced at Menar, who drew a face of resentment. "I didn't touch anything!" Brother Paul looked back at the man. He gazed down his nose at Brother Paul. "I will be paid. Either in money or in blood. Make your choice, old man." Brother Paul chuckled. The man unfolded his arms and leaned forward within a hairsbreadth from his face. "Do you really want to die? Right now?" Brother Paul shook his head. "I won't have to worry about that for a long time, but I find your disillusionment amusing." "Disillusionment? Of what?" the man challenged. Brother Paul took a hasty step back as the man swiftly hopped the counter, forcing Menar stumbling backwards. He quickly grappled Brother Paul.

"That you're getting paid." The man drew his fist back, but Brother Paul reacted in a blur. He pushed in his forearm before the man's punch even reached him, bending it to the ground and using his other hand to punch him in the face. He fell quickly to the ground and didn't get up, though concious with blood streaming from his nose. Menar was amazed, yet again, at the priest. Blood fell down his face and his dilated eyes watered. Brother Paul bent down to him and tossed a few coins on his chest. "Except for that; I owe you that. You probably don't know this, but I'm a teacher. So, here's a lesson for you, child. Respect your elders." Menar looked down at into the man's unfocused face with pity. Although, he couldn't help but to feel the pangs of satisfaction.

Brother Paul stared at him a moment longer before exiting the shop without uttering another word, Menar following close behind. He walked with a quickened pace. Menar looked around to see if anyone noticed or, for that matter, cared. No one even looked at them. "What was _that?_" Menar said, incrediously. Brother Paul continued to look ahead. "What do you mean?" Menar was speechless for a moment. "That! I-what you did-that was-" he stopped himself. "I never imagined you as a fighter." "You saw him swing at me. Just because I am a holy man doesn't mean I don't know how to fight."

Menar made a face. "'Holy man'?" Brother Paul put his hands behind his back and slowed down when they turned the next corner. "I'm still a religous offical, Menar. In my past, killed in the name of the Lord, our God." Menar tried to look back at the shop, but it was blocked already by buildings. "That wasn't in the name of God." Menar said under his breath as people's eyes turned towards them as he said 'God'. Brother Paul looked down at Menar and smiled. "No, that was preservation. It is nessicary sometimes, even for an instrument of God." "You sure are wording these things strangely. Do you think yourself to be His instrument?"

Brother Paul laughed, causing more people around him to look in his direction. "Oh, no Menar. I mean you." Menar smiled. "Me? What are you talking about? Surely you have some reasoning behind that...claim." Brother Paul pointed ahead. "That's where we will be staying at until Ulrik comes to get you." "You didn't answer my question." Brother Paul brought his hands in front of him again. "I mean I think that you are going to have a very fufilling life. I know you'll serve God to the best of your abilities." They climbed the steps to the inn. "As should we all." he said without agreeing with his strange remark. Brother Paul nodded and opened the door, kindly allowing Menar to step inside first.

Menar noticed the dramatic change in tone of the shop in contrast to the harshness of the outside. Here, it was mild and well-lit, not like the clammy fog outside. Menar noticed that it well furnished, too. Everything about this room eminated hospitality. It was a welcome change. Brother Paul closed the door behind them, and it didn't even make a sound as it shut. He walked Menar over to the front registery counter. However, there was no one behind it. Menar eyed the files behind the counter, and he wondered what they had in them. Probably just information on tenets and finances.

He heard soft clicking, though sharp and quick. He looked around for the source of the noise when he was suddenly climbed upon by a small, furry creature that was suddenly staring him in the face. Menar looked at the ferret and winced as his small claws dug into his shoulder. "Get off of him, Ralph you old coot!" An elderly man hollared from the room next to them, approaching Menar with hastened pace. The ferret immediatly scuttled to a nearby hole in the wall.  
Brother Paul stared into the hole and looked at the old, unshaven man, smiling. "A friend of yours?" The man smiled in return, somewhat crooked, but not as nearly as his teeth. "Yeah, but the little guy comes and goes as he pleases. Strange fellow, a strange fellow he is. Yes." Menar didn't imagine the man had much room to speak. His hair was electrified and wild, his eyebrows enormously thick. At first glance, he looked professional, but his demenor and odd speech gave that away.

He picked up a quill and parchment and held it at ready. "I would think that you are seeking shelter? We have good rooms." Brother Paul glanced at Menar. "Yes. My name is Charlie, and this is my nephew, Joesph. We aren't going to stay long. one night should be enough." The man looked down his nose at Menar. "I thought you looked something like a old-timey name. Not to different from ourselves, eh?" the man cackled. Brother Paul grinned, as did Menar. He didn't think it was funny, but there was just something about the man that made him seem like such a likeable fellow.

"Ah, where are my manners? I blame the ferret. My name's Granevoldi Ispanblotche VIII." "That's an 'old-timey' name?" Menar said skeptically. Brother Paul nodded. "Yes. Though, not today. This is more of-" Brother Paul stopped short, as though he shouldn't have begun speaking. "It was popular durning the Ispanblotche War." The man nodded vigerously. "Yes! Exactly! No one around here remembers the great family fued anymore." He looked at Menar, as though he was passing on some sort of secret that would undoubtedly catch on, solely because it was too good.

"It was the longest, most infamous family fued in the country! In all of Strom!" He glared at Menar with great intensity. "It was all the Fergeson's fault, because a couple of them stole a few livestock. Nothing too serious now, pay a fine and go. But back then, that was just like taking your sister's innocence without her father's blessing." Menar blushed slightly. Brother Paul crossed his arms, standing in silence. "But they got caught. Instead of facing judgment, they killed my great great great great grandfather. Well his wife, Katrina, was to bear child shortly after his death. She named him Granevoldi Ispanblotche II. Anyways, the rest of the Ispanblotches' didn't take kindly to the Ferguson's, even though she just wanted it to blow over, because she feared losing the rest of her immediate family I suppose."

His eyes raised up, mystified as he spread his arms. "They fought like animals! Glorious animals!" He looked absolutely insane. Menar let a loose chuckle escape him, but the man didn't seem to notice. "They kidnapped, they stole, vandalized, murdered- before you knew it, people who weren't even blood relatives has sided with different families. Some even named their own children after our family name!"

He looked around, as if suddenly noticing the two of them. "But your probably don't want to hear the ramblings of an old coot like myself." he pointed to Brother Paul as he made his way around the counter. "You'd do well, though, to listen to your uncle. He is a wise man." Menar was impressed how easily influenced this man was. He guessed his knowledge of the Ispanblotche War had won Brother Paul over to his good side. That is, if this friendly man even had anything more than a good side.

"One night you said?" Brother Paul uncrossed his arms and nodded. "Yes, sir. That would be correct." He quickly scrawled something down in his log book. "Well, you two have a good evening." He turned and began walking on the other side of the large house. "Room's down that hall, to the right." "Wait," Brother Paul called, making the man stopped in his tracks. "What about your due?" The man waved his hand. "It's on the house." Brother Paul glanced at Menar. "That's no way to keep a business running." The old man turned on his heels and continued walking. "I get enough business. Besides, it's good now and again to do some sort of good. G'night."

Brother Paul stood there a moment with Menar. Then, he headed off on the other side of the house. Menar followed him, eyeing the hole that the ferret went into not but a moment ago as he passed by. When they got to the room, they found it not as lavishly furnished as the front lobby, but enough to accommidate them for the brief stay that they would have. Well, many probably didn't stay in a hotel in a town like this for long. Could they? Menar stood by the door as he watched Brother Paul clamber on the bed. He lay down heavily on it and closed his eyes.

"I could get used to this," he murmered, sprawling himself across the bed. "It's nice to sleep in an actual bed for a change. I really must be getting old." Menar smiled, sitting himself down on a nearby chair. "I don't think I'll be able to fit on it with you lying like that, Brother." Brother Paul opened his eyes. For a moment, it looked like he would sit up, but he did not. "What are you talking about?" "Well," said Menar, a flicker of confusion crossing him. "Aren't I sleeping here too?" Understanding flooded Brother Paul. "Oh, it must have slipped my mind to tell you."

"Tell me what?" asked Menar. Brother Paul did sit up this time, his layers of clothing settling around him again. "You'll be Manifesting with Ulrik to the base. It's still a good ways off from here by walking." A smile touched his lips, though Menar's lips pursed, but he relaxed them, not wanting his face to betray him. "Why didn't you just do it? Manifest me there?" "Don't you remember? Magic is tracable. I was taking you away from the Heartless and any possible pursuers so that we wouldn't be detected. You have to understand now, you must tread very lightly from here on out. You are a valuable asset to the Crusaders and, from what it seems, a person of interest to the Heartless." Menar's gaze fell to the floor. "Alright, fine. What will happen now?" Brother Paul stood up and pulled the jars of food he bought from his robes and placed them on the dresser. "I'd imagine you'd be inducted into the Crusaders. Oh, congratulations, by the way. Not many, at least in ratio the overall size of the Crusaders, are chosen to become an Elite. I just thought it was worth mentioning."

Menar's attention was perked from his pensive state as he realized something. "Thank you. I have to know now, what about this town has to deal with my parents?" Brother Paul fell into complete silence. Even his robes didn't brush against themselves. It was a long while before he spoke. "In the town square. I'll let you see for yourself, but I must come with you. This town isn't very safe." Menar held no objections. He was the first to leave the hotel.

He bounded down the front stairs, suddenly aware that he was unsure of the direction, so he had to wait for Brother Paul to lead. He tried not to be impatent, but it proved increasingly difficult. Brother Paul always said, 'I may walk slow, but at least I don't walk backwards!'. Right now, he felt as if that was the only way he could possibly go any slower. When the finally reached the town square, he looked around.

"Where to now?" Brother Paul shrugged. "We don't go anywhere." He clearly felt confusion spread across his face and, quite possibly, annoyance. "Why?" He prompted. "Can't you see it? There." Brother Paul nodded to the center of the square, where a larger-than-life statue posed on a rather large podium. As Menar rounded around the square so he could see the front of it. He saw that the stone man was frozen in a salute, his sword precisely along his line of symetrey. The man stood perfectly erect, his would-be eyes watching over the town as he paid his endless tribute. In a sense, it looked a lot like Menar. He edged closer to it, but without any emotion, though he knew who the man was. He felt like he was dreaming.

He read the plauqe that lay beneath the man, it's words carefully etched in stone: _Estan Redfield: The Hero of Navaje, the Fearless Fighter, will be forever remembered as a soldier whose valient and noble actions saved the lives of our citizens. When the battle of 1254, New Era, broke upon us with an unkown terrorist group, he, along with his platoon, defended us. However, this man, though many of his companions slaughtered, and he himself injured, managed to defend the town through his injuries, defeating a score of men singlehandedly. May God preserve his soul and we shall dedicate this statue to commemorate the honor this decorated soldier._

Menar touched the words, running his hands over them as though he could read it again merely by touching it. He didn't need to, because he didn't think he could forget what he had just read so easily. He stared at them blankly, running his hands over them again and again, trying to live inside of those words, longing to be able to see his father. He was grateful that he knew some small piece of his parents history. He held it intensely in his mind, burning it within the moment so it would leave a permenent mark that he could remember forever. He realized Brother Paul had walked behind him. How long had he been there, he did not know. Menar turned to Brother Paul, who scrutinized his face. Menar didn't feel he had one, and if he did, it was completely numb. So was the rest of his body.

"So," he said, still watching Menar carefully, "What are you thinking?" "It's nice to know something about him, but it just makes me want more." He said simply. He turned back to look into the face of his father. _No, _Menar thought, _On second thought, I don't look anything like him._ Brother Paul cocked his head at Menar. "Oh, but you do." Menar didn't turn around. It took him a moment before he was aware that he hadn't said anything. "Excuse me?" he said, facing him. Brother Paul shifted. "I said you do look a lot like him." Menar glanced back. "I suppose, but I-" he stopped, realizing. "Can you read my mind?" As rediculous as Menar thought it was, Brother Paul didn't smile or ridicule him. He looked down. "Not just yours. It's a part of my...abilites. It comes with much, much practice." he looked around.

"I don't do it often, though. It's not right to go searching through peoples minds. It is man's last sanctuary. Anyways, they just kind of eminate from people. It's strange." Menar began walking away, but not without noting the important fact. "Where are you going?" asked Brother Paul. "I can't stay here," he said. "I..." he looked at his father in his heroic pose. "It's complicated." Suddenly, someone shouted his name. He looked around and saw someone walking towards him. It was Ulrik. "There you are. I assumed Brother Paul would be bringing you here." Menar tensed. "Hmm. So, you knew about this statue?" Menar asked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the thick air and pierce Ulrik. _Not the time _his inner voice of reason thought, _not the place._

Brother Paul walked up quickly, possibly to prevent a scene. Menar looked into Ulrik's eyes. He allowed himself to be once again captivated by his white eye and his scar, so he could help take his mind of his differences between Ulrik and himself. His anger faded, but refused to go completely into the dark. "Ah, hello there, Ulrik." said Brother Paul. Ulrik nodded. "Everything turn out alright for you and Menar?" "Yes, everything turned out smoothly. What is the prognosis of Cajoi?" Ulrik beamed. "It turned out better than I could have hoped. They, erm," he paused, "the bad ones," Brother Paul nodded in understanding, "Didn't succeed. There wasn't much damage and minimal casualties. The students should be back there in less than five days."

Menar suddenly thought of Vaxel. "What about Vaxel? Where is he?" Ulrik raised his eyebrows and stared at him with mild interest, "Oh, I'm sorry," '_I'll bet,_' Menar thought. "He went to train at a military base. Not with the same group you'll be training at, though. However, they do work together." He added, as if to imply hope. He then lowered his voice and bent closer to Menar. "It wouldn't be wise to have two military divisons, even if one's secret." Menar didn't like his breath on him. To him, it smelled of lies and betrayel. "So, what do we do now?" Menar inquired. "Now," said Brother Paul, "I will leave. You talk with Ulrik, then go to your destination."

Menar looked at Ulrik's face and felt sickened by it. "I don't believe we have anything to talk about, do we?" he asked Ulrik. "Not unless you have anything to ask, then it would be nothing of importance." _'Ah, I'm not important. Thanks a lot, Godfather.' _Menar knew that wasn't what he ment, but he didn't care. "I'm ready. I'll see you later, Brother Paul." "May the stars watch over you and God's hand guide you. Farewell, both of you." He waved and walked away, leaving him with Ulrik. Menar turned reluctantly to him. "Let's go." Urik nodded and gestured towards an ally. Menar went.

"Menar, I'm not good with informalcy, but I realize I should have told you sooner instead of waiting to tell you about your parents, but I didn't think you would be able to handle it." "I think I could handle the truth better than deception. Please don't try to convince me otherwise." "I'm sorry." was all Ulrik said. When they were in the empty ally, Menar turned to him. "Take my hand." Menar looked at it. He detested the symbolism of trust, but he didn't have any other choice. He took his hand in his own and closed his eyes, not sure what to expect.

Suddenly, the world seemed to compress his body into the smallest, most miniscule form and it made him unable to breathe. However, the feeling was brief. When solid ground returned beneath his feet, he didn't open his eyes. He realized that moment he did, he would be looking at his future- at the rest of his life. He drew upon every collectable memory in his mind and reviewed his life in a flash. With that, he stored it all in his heart and locked it away. Then, he opened his eyes to his destiny.


	8. Chapter 8: Bleak Beginnings

_Chapter Eight_

_**Bleak Beginnings**_

He opened his eyes to a large room, clearly an office. Perhaps the most strange thing about it, was that it only had a desk with ordinary supplies on it and a chair sitting behind it and across from it. The small accent of a lamp was maybe the only personality in the room. It placidly flaunted that everything that went on in this room was business, and left little feeling of individuality. He looked beyond the desk to see a man with his back to them, stand in front of a window. Menar could only see the man's silloutte, but from his stillness, Menar could tell that he was a soldier; they had arrived at Fort Hood.

"Hello." he said, turning around. His face was still obscured by the light, but as he came forward and sat down to his desk, Menar identified the man as Remus. "Please, have a seat. I don't suppose you'd like anything to drink?" Ulrik waved his hand dismissively. "No, I'm fine." "I too." Menar said as he walked with Ulrik across the long room and sat down. Remus stared at the two of him, his blue eyes seeming to scan them omniscently. "Magic must be a useful thing."

Ulrik nodded. "It has its uses, yes." Menar glanced at Urlik, then at Remus. "Aren't you able to do magic, sir?" He smiled Menar with mild pleasentry. "Ah, no. We here at Fort Hood, well most, are unable to do magic. It takes a rather long time to develop an understanding of the implications and complexities of it and must start at a young age. You've been at it for how long, Menar?" Menar twiddled his fingers. "Well, since I can remember, to be honest. I just thought that all of the Crusaders had the training to conduct magic." Ulrik shook his head. "No, just people that the Crusaders take in early youth are trained in magic, because it does take a lifetime to master. Besides, most do not retain enough intelligence to use it properly."

Menar watched Remus nod vigerously. "Yes. If there is one thing that I have learned in all my years as the Battalion Commander of this base, it is that there are most definately stupid people in the world." He looked at Menar directly. "This base and myself are required to instruct wisdom into such individuals. You shouldn't have any problem, though. Although, I would beware that some people are not from the same walk of life that you come from." Ulrik leaned over to Menar. "That is, they aren't social butterflies."

Remus clasped his hands together and straightened. "Yes. I do believe it would be best to keep to yourself until you learn the ropes. Though, the only people you have to really worry about are the Instructors. They can be," he smiled wolfishly. "headstrong." Menar soaked it all in, evaluating all the information that he was given so he could conform more easily. However, he did feel uncomfortable about being so incompetent of what was to happen to him. He felt like he had no control over himself, and he didn't like it. "I'm fairly certain that I can handle anything that they throw at me. I learned from Brother Paul that one of the greatest assets you can have is the ablity to adapt."

Both Ulrik and Remus smiled. "I'm starting to like this kid more and more. Yeah, you'll be just fine. So, I bet you're wondering what you'll be doing here." From the corner of his eye, he saw Ulrik looking at him. He was starting to feel angry again. _Prodige_ he thought bitterly. _I bet he's thinking I'm going to eat all of this up on my first day. I'm just in it to help people._ His heart panged when he thought of his friends. _Definately._

"Well," said Remus after his silence ensued his pensiveness, bringing him back to reality. "That's for your Instructors to tell. I suppose that concludes our brief little meeting. Let's get you squared away and get started." He rose, as did Urlik. Menar spoke as he too stood up. "What are you going to be doing Ulrik?" He smiled and took out his pipe. Menar remembered it from when he told him about his parents. "I'm going on vaction." Remus burst into laughter as Menar imploded with hatred. _So he's going to abandon his own students so that he can go out and party? At the time when they need him the most? Figures! _"I hear you. Cheers!" Remus said. Ulrik raised his pipe and dipped his head. Then, he was gone. "Alright." Remus said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get started."

He gestured Menar towards the door as Ulrik Manaifested out. Menar's gaze lingered on the spot where his Godfather once was, then, turned away to be led to whatever Remus was going to show him. "So, how you feeling, Menar?" Menar shrugged as he was directed into a much larger room, but with smaller, more compacted office spaces. It was much more lively here, too. "Of this place? I don't know yet. I'd have to see more before I can make an informed decision." Remus didn't say anything for a moment. As they stepped outside, he noticed that they must have traveled a far distance to get here.

Menar gasped, inhaling frozen air, as he stared into a mountain range, sun shining from just above the layer of fog that masked the true height of the mountains. The chilling breeze that stirred froze his very marrow, but the nearly intangible heat of the sun warmed his face. The golden rays of the sun set aflame the blanket of fog, beguiling the observer to take it as a golden river that flowed to eternity, masking the face of death itself with a celestial beauty.

Beneath him, he saw the training base he had been told of layered with snow and ice. "My impression" he contimplated carefully, still stunned from the glorious scenery, "is impressed." Remus smiled and walked across the platform to a railway just in front of them. "Wonderful, isn't it?" The artic wind swept his words away and silence was all that remained, until Menar spoke. "How do you manage to get up here if you can't do magic?" He pat Menar on the back, smiled, and turned to his left, descending a stairway Menar had not noticed. "You missed your first part of training."

From his birds-eye view, he spotted a group of men running the length of the camps four walls, rounding a corner. Their clothing did not seem as though it was appropriate for the weather, something that mildly concerned Menar. He himself, during the short time he had been out, had already felt the icy cold freezing his innerds. "Oh," was all he could think of in response. Until an unpleasent thought crossed his mind. "Will they resent me for it? The others, I mean."

Remus hinted another slight smile. "It's not something I'd bring up around the dinner table if I were you. That is their first and, quite posssibly, most difficult part of their training. They won't understand as I do that the time and effort it takes to understand magic is more tedious than climbing a mountain. Well, it's not something I would do. It would be like learning another language." he shook his head.

Menar didn't feel the same way. It wasn't really so much as a choice as much as it was his lifestyle. All students at the Sanctuary were required to learn magic. He just happened to understand and excel in it better than most, if not all of the students at the Sanctuary. His thoughts invoked old feelings and longing for it.

They had fully descended now and menar realized how much larger the base seemed to be after looking at it from above. Tents seemed more accomidating, the training ring, archery field, and pretty much everything else seemed larger. He was amazed how the mountains took on a new perspective, staring down at them as if to protect them and inspire closeness. From up there, even though they were amazingly beautiful, they seemed like cold spikes.

"This sure is a strange place to host a base," Menar said as Remus led him to his destination. He uttered a laugh. "We wouldn't want anyone to accidentally stumble upon our training facility, now would we? Besides, what better place to train a man than outside of his element? Menar, we seek not only to enhance a man's abilities, but to construct survival skills that will last a lifetime." Snow crunched loudly under Remus's boots. They hadn't walked long before Remus clicked his tounge. "Here. We go in here." Stopping outside of one of the countless, similar tents, he opened it's flap, gesturing him inside.

The tent was approximatly the size of a regular room, though it seemed smaller because of all of the clutter that littered the tent. At first, it seemed to be normal, but they were, upon investigation, oddities in the extreme. Their construction and strange color combinations instilled ideas of the strange and mysterious.

Aside from the colorful collection of items, there was but one large lounging place in the center of the room. A woman sat delicately in the center of the tent on a pillow, writing. Her long, flowing brown hair covered her face. They walked to the edge of the many pillows that covered the center of the tent in a large square. She stopped writing when she became aware of their presence.

"Hello, Nasuda." The woman didn't turn. "Hello, sire. Who is that you have with you?" Remus patted Menar on the back. "This is our newest trainee here, Menar, hailing from Cajoi." She inclined her head slightly. "Was that not the city attacked?" "Yes mame." She lowered her head, hair falling once more into it's place, though it hadn't moved much. "He is a magic user, of course. That is why I brought him to you, so that you might teach him." explained Remus. "Ah, yes. That _is _one of the cities that instruct the ways of magic. How well are you?"

Menar was unnerved by this woman. "You mean in magic?" She nodded, her face still obscured. Menar wanted to tear the viel of hair that hid her face, just so that he could star upon it. Instead, he shrugged. "He is the best that the school has to offer. From what I hear, he is the best they have ever seen." Remus piqued.

Menar's face reddened. The woman reached out suddenly, her hand fumbling through the air, when it caught Menar's leg. Instinctively, he took a step backwards. "No," said the woman. "Come." Menar glanced at Remus, who nodded. Reluctantly, he returned to his origonal position.

She climbed her way up him slowly. When she stood upright, her hands were all over his face, tracing his features. He caught brief glimpses of her shocking, piercing green eyes. He shuddered as chills ran the length of his spine. She then ran her hands briefly over his torso and then sat down. "Hop once, please." He looked, again, at Remus. He gave no expression, so Menar hopped.

She nodded as soon as his feet touched the ground again. "Menar...What's your last name?" Menar almost told her that he didn't have one. However, recent events taught him that his name should be Menar Redfield. On the other hand, he didn't know for certain if he dared don his inherent name. It was an unintentional question of personal values that he was afraid to answer.

"Your name?" she reitereated. He paused. "Menar Redfield." Her eyes stared at him directly, for the first time. His blood ran as cold as the icy wind that threatened to topple the tent. "Estan's son?" Menar couldn't speak. "Mmm." was all he could manage. "If you would like, I can tell you anything about your father that you might like to know. I understand that his disappearence left you without any description of him. I'm not sure what you already know though, but if you desire to find out more, you can see me if you wish."

"Thank you," She nodded once more. "But where are my manners? I apologize, Remus." He stood as quietly as he had been the whole time. "Menar, I am going to be your new spell teacher. Unlike your old one, your learning process will not be hindered or bound by restrictions and regulations as they were at your old school. Unless, of course, you decide to use them improperly."

Menar's stomach flipped. At the Sanctuary, he was only permitted to conduct magic only under the supervision of his mentor, Brother Paul, but, now, he was given a valuable new freedom. At Brother Paul's rememberence, his heart gave a small lurch, and he wondered if he would see him again, or any of his old friends. He found it strange, thinking of his past life as one that was over-which it pretty much was- but he didn't have to find it difficult to appreciate his new freedom. _I'm a man now,_ he thought, _I have to take charge of myself and my actions, be the result punishment or reward._

"If you ever _dare_ misuse my teachings though, I swear I will make you regret it!" she swore urgently, her open hand sweeping the air as if to clear anything that might blot her words. "I will not have anyone train under me that will use their powers for anything but the positive, proconstructive methods for the Crusaders." She paused. "I'm blind." He blinked, caught offguard by the odd remark. "Um, I'm sorry?" She cocked her head. "Why?" "No, I mean- what did you say?"

She turned her whole body to him. He could see her eyes clearly now, unknowing, but watching him with a different kind of sight, a different kind of intelligence. "I'm blind. It's not a weakness, but a strength. It's why I'm so good at magic. If you're as good as I hear, then we'll get along just fine." "Okay." The room aburptly fell silent. She smirked. "He's one of few words." Remus rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Tell me about it." Actually, that's probably good. We will meet here when I call you." Menar shifted his wieght, and her eyes followed his breif movement. _Can she see me just because I step on the ground? _

"How?" "You will know. Take this coin." She summoned one over to him by using her own magic. "It will grow warm when it's time for a lesson or when I need you. The longer I have to wait, the hotter it becomes." She grinned. "It would be...most unwise to abandon it. I invented it myself, so I will know." Menar felt it grow warm for a short while. "Don't worry, I won't interrupt," she laughed, "your other studies. I suppose I've bored Remus enough. I"ll let him show you your new home now." Remus bowed exaggeratedly. "Thank you, 'o mistress of mine." She smiled and continued her writing.

Menar left the tent with Remus, greeted by the familar cold of the outdoors. "She is...different." Remus streched, his armor clinking, then sighed deeply. "I know. She is among the great ones." he said with clear admiration. Menar was surprised with the informalcy of the hierarchy here. He supposed it was because the Elite were a smaller portion of soldiers that required training than the massive army of the King, though he couldn't prove that.

Remus led the way to the other side of the camp. The snow beneath their feet was, for the most part, fully compacted. He could already see that before long he would become familar with these roads. "Where are we to go now?" he asked curiously. Remus pointed to somehwere ahead. "We are to meet you instructor. Then, I would have you recieve the things that you will need for your stay here."

He nodded and fell silent. _We can't always prepare for what life gives us. A week ago, I would have never imagine standing atop a mountain training for a secret organization. _A thought occured to him. _Do I even want this?_

The question puzzled him. By the time Remus showed him into another tent, his enigma remained unsolved. Upon entering the small tent, he saw a tall, bearded man with an intimidating physiqe seated and writing, as Nasuda had been. However, he glanced up at them immediately. When he saw Remus, he rose, extending his hand. "Hello, good to see you, sir." Remus closed the tent flap and took it. "Aye, you too." They all stood trianguarly.

"Well, what can I offer you this evening? And you, young one?" Menar was thirsty. However, he declined. "I appreciate your hospitality, but no thank you." Remus smiled wryly. "Me too. But there is something you can do for me." "Mmm? What's that?" He glanced at Menar. "This is Menar. He is our newest trainee." "Ah," them an said. "Then it would appear I have work to do." Remus nodded. "He's in your care now, Aries." He waved goodbye to the both of them, and they, likewise, waved. Cold once again creeped upon Menar's skin as he exited, leaving him and his new acquaintance in heavy, unexpected silence. His skin grew goosebumps.

"So," Aries said as he sat down in his chair and pulled out a fresh parchment to put over his old one. "Tell me about yourself." Menar briefly thought before he considered it wisest to answer direct questions. Too many unusal events had occured recently and he didn't want to reveal anything about himself too personal that could be used against him later. After all, this was a soldiers' training camp.

"What would you like to know, sir?" he said, continuing his formality. Something about him just seemed... serpentine. "How about your date of birth?" "October 31, 1227." "You weren't with the last group that trecked up here, and you're too early for the next." he commented. "How did you get here?" he scribbled something on the parchment with surprisingly neat handwriting for such a bulky figure and thick fingers.

"I arrived here by magic," informed Menar. The converstaion, so far, was as cold and stiff as the frozen weather outside. "Oh, Lord, not another one. I hope you aren't like the other two. Hometown?" "I was raised in the city of Cajoi." he seemed remotely surpised. "Ah, the city that was attacked. So, it was you who foretold the attack?" Menar nodded. He scribbled for a long while before speaking again. "I have a feeling you and I will become very close. I was wondering why Remus himself brought you to me. Yes, I heard about the inate fighting ability your possess. I was just wondering when you would get here. I assumed that they would allow you some time to recuporate from battle before you were brought here but...Ah well, I'm rambing. If you have any more occurences like you had, please feel free to come and see me." He bared his teeth in a crooked grin.

_I'd just as soon kiss a spider,_ Menar thought. _Besides, he's probably just in charge of recruits' daily training. He'll go glowingly to Remus with anything. He's a sly one, though. I'll have to be careful. _"I appreciate the gesture, but Remus and I have already developed an understanding of my...position."

Aries seemed dismayed. "Very well; it is not my intention to stop you. But if you have any concerns, feel free to see me." Menar time spent with this man was agonizingly slow, and Menar couldn't feel as though he as talking to who he thought he was, because it seemed like the man was wearing a mask.

Most of the questions he asked were basic and unintrusive. Only few, which were undoubtedly ones of his own personal interest, disturbed him. He got the inescapable feeling that the man was power-hungry, and sought him as a tool. Menar partially didn't blame him. He too would not enjoy spending the rest of his days on a frozen mountiantop.

"There is one last thing you must do." Menar, wearily, inclined his head. "Tomorrow, meet in- wait, you did see our small training circle, did you not?" Menar paused, considering. "I believe I know what you're talking about, yes." "Tomorrow at daybreak, meet at that location, and so begins you first day of training." The words echoed in Menar's head. Aries took the parchment and filed it inside his desk. "What will happen after my training?" Menar inquired. He laughed. "If you're lucky, you'll not have my job. You must understand that everyone goest through basic training, and it doesn't automatically mean that you'll be fighting. Though, with you, we'd be foolish not to use you for that purpose. Though it's not up to me, I would assume you'll be fighting." Menar was grave and silent. _Good fortune has not smiled upon me in a good while, _he thought bitterly.

"I hope you find your training here alright. Your tent is 104, over on the East side." Menar rose, quickly realizing his cue to leave. "How long is my stay?" Aries began writing on his old parchment. "A month. Then, you recieve your first assignment. Good day." Menar gestured farewell. "You too." He left the tent, blinking hard, suddenly sleepy. He walked to the East, with the sun far behind him. He yawned. _It's late. Down on ground level, the sun would probably be setting. I should get settled and go to bed._ Tired as he was, he couldn't help but mull over the sudden change in his life. Things were different now, very much so. For the first time, he felt alone, truely alone.

Everything was changing so rapidly, and it made him feel confused. _Cajoi, my friends-everything, gone. What will I do? What...what about my life? What I want?_ _What will become of me?_ He felt he had jumped impusively off a cliff. The plunge was exhilerating, but short-lived. As the metaphorical gap closed between him and the water below, he couldn't help but wonder how deep it was.

He walked the length of the camp, counting the sharp black numbers above the tents. He noticed that there wasn't much actvity within the camp. The cold weather probably contributed to that, and the fact that it was getting late. One or two people, though, did come out of their tents and headed of in the direction opposite of Menar, not even bothering to make eye contact with him. It didn't seem like long before the numbers above the tents read closer and closer to 104.

Then, there it was, his 'home', as he had been told. The tent was no larger than the others, which surprised him. Although he knew, by the size of it, that he would be sharing the tent with another, maybe two. The tent shuddered violently in a sudden gust of wind. It looked pathetic really. He took a deep breath, watching the cloud in front of his face, and walked inside.

He couldn't see anything at first, due to the lack of light, so he had to let his eyes grow accustomed to it. Before they could, a voice barked from within the darkness. "Hey! You're letting in all the wind and snow! Get in and shut the flap." He quickly did as he was bidden, startled by the unexpected outburst. When he stood inside of the tent, he was surprised how cold he was from the wind from outside. Rather than shivering before, he did so now. He noticed a young man, at least a few years older than he was, lying down in a bed roll.

His brown hair almost fell over his chestnut eyes, concealing them as he straightened himself up. "What are you doing here? Is it a drill?" Menar shrugged. "No. I was told that I was staying in this tent." He noticed another unrolled bed roll lay in the corner of the tent, along with a few articles of uniform clothing. It was the same clothing that the men who were running the camp wore. "Well, you just let out what little warmth there was in here. Thanks a lot." Menar didn't know exactly what to say. "I'm sorry."

"'I'm sorry'? That doesn't help any." Menar walked to his bedroll and clothing. He picked up the clothing that lay beside the roll and placed it aside. Then, he unrolled the bed where it was, discovering a book was wrapped in the middle. "That doesn't make it warmer in here you know. Is this even registering in your head? Do you even _know_ how cold it gets here? Freezing. Don't do that stupid stuff again. Speaking of which, why did you get assigned this tent?" Menar picked up the book and smiled. _History of the Heartless. _However, it was much more condensed than Ulrik's.

Menar put the book aside. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" Menar arose and turned to the boy. He sure was arrogant. He looked into the his hard eyes. "Why are you talking to me like that?" The boy snorted. "You don't know what kind of frozen hell I've been through, and you're just standing there with the door wide open making it colder when I'm trying to sleep and forget about this awful place." Menar felt the urge to tell him off, but stopped his retort. Instead, he tried a proconstructive method. After all, he would be spending a good bit of time with his roommate. "Well, I think I can help with that." The boy's annoyed face didn't change.

Menar sat on his bedroll and inhaled deeply, nearly coughing on what felt like pure ice sliding into his lungs. He felt around in his mind for his Connection. When he found it, he inflamed it, making everything in his mind glow with the heat of fire. He extended his hands together and held a ball of fire in his hands. The boy's face was clearly visible now, and it looked surprised. "Wow, that was amazing. How'd you do that?" has asked mildly. Menar smiled, all ill occurences suddenly forgotten. "It's practice." He could already feel the entire tent warming. "Well, maybe you're not as bad as I thought." The young man sat upright, and extended his hand. "Chris is the name." Menar took his hand, and it was shaken somewhat violently by Chris. "Nice to meet you. I'm Menar." Chris laughed.

"You aren't from around here, are you kid? We don't talk like that here. Honestly, you won't say much either than 'yes sir' or 'no sir' outside of this tent, but still, I don't think that kind of attitude would roll over well with the others." Menar felt his pride bruise and offense take hold. "What do others have against my way of speaking? I don't have any attitude, as you so claim." He laughed again in the firelight, his features distorting and twisting demonically to form a face of evil, impish joy. Menar grimanced. It reminded him of Cajoi.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you. You can take my advice, or you might not have such a nice time here. So, where are you from? Alegia? Mekva?" Menar shook his head a placed the flame on the bare dirt floor, still fueling it with his mind. "No, I'm from Cajoi." Chris cocked his head. "Cajoi, huh? Never heard of it." Menar dug his finger into the dirt. _Everyone else seems to know about Cajoi. Why wouldn't he? Well, they probably wouldn't bother tell trainees. _Ordinarily, he would have reveled in the fact he partook in a secret that most others did not, such is the nature of secrets. Aside from that, he had enough of secrets. Secrets and betrayel. The flame grew hotter. "Wouldn't doubt it. It's a small city near Port James." "Ah, I know of that."

"Yeah." Menar debated whether or not to tell him more about Cajoi, about the devistating attack that forever changed his world, but he caught himself. He didn't want to get his emotions mixed up and wind up doing something that he might regret. Chris seemed like a nice enough person, even if somewhat aggrevating. However, he wasn't someone you would spill your heart out to. He didn't even really know him past his first name.

An awkward silence filled the tent. "Well, sorry about that crabby intro. I'm really tired, cause I stayed up late with some of the others last night. Shouldn't of, but-" Chris finally turned over. "Still, don't do that again, I don't enjoy freezing for to fun of it." The tent was fully warmed now, and Menar didn't know if he could still channel magic in his sleep, but he didn't try, especially with fire in an enclosed space. Besides, as long as the tent was closed, there was no way the warmth could fade away. Overnight, at least.

Menar let the fire die slowly, watching as the shadows flicked and wove in a strange last dance. Eventually, it seemed as if the light from the fire were dancing with the shadows, equal in quantity. Then, the shadows pierced and corrupted the light, forcing it to die and be born again, back into the dark brotherhood that was an infinite blackness. Not giving his eyes another chance to adjust to the dark, he shut them to it all, trying to forget everything and slip into sleep. For a moment, he relished the idea of just waking up, during the span that you were not fully aware of anything at all but the moment. However, the thought was soon tainted by the nightmares of Cajoi, filled with burning death.

__ __

* * *

"Hey, stonehead, wake up, it's time to go." Menar kept his eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them, Chris was already dressed and up. "It's time to go." he repeated. "What are we going to do?" Menar rose up on his elbows, still not fully awake. "We are going to fight with swords, like we do everyday. Well, I'll see you there, because I'm not going to wait on you. Should've already been up and about." Menar shrugged as he left. It didn't really bother him all that much.

He slipped out of the bed clothed himself in the uniform that he discovered yesterday and pulled his shoes on. Chris probably did the same thing as he did and slept fully clothed. Menar didn't like to sleep with anything than his undergarments normally, because it just made him feel too hot and constricted underneath his covers. When his shoes were on, he opened the flap to leave, but staggered back, his eyes suddenly in agonizing pain as stars filled his vision. He grunted and closed the flap. When he finally got his bearings, he saw yet another glorious mountain range, with the sun just behind one of the tall mountains. _Wow, _he thought _I could get used to this if it wasn't so cold. _

The wind that had chilled him yesterday though was absent, and for that he was grateful. He turned and walked to where he thought the ring would be. He didn't walk far before he saw Chris walking a good distance ahead of him. He thought about running to him, more to get his mind fully active than anything, but he decided against it. It just wouldn't be right. Instead, he stayed behind him, quiet and following.

When he finally arrived at the ring, there were many people there, standing and talking. He walked to Chris. "Why are there so many people? Don't they have any other rings?" He nodded and kept his eyes on the ring in front of them. "There's two others, but we've got the most people. See, the 'base', as they want to call it, is divided into three parts. One has the cafeteria, the rec center, and the housing. Of course, all of them have housing, but the one that has just housing, has the most people. Guess which one we're in?" Menar didn't respond. "That sucks." Chris turned his head to him and smiled, quiet for a moment. "You're telling me."

Then, a man hopped the gate and walked to the center of the ring, muscles large with a coarse beard. The man reminded Menar of an oversized dwarf, but he recognized him as Aries. "Attention, everyone, shut up and fix your eyes on me." Menar felt a surge of surprise at his tounge, but no one else seemed to take offense. "Listen here, you are all going to fight and beat the hell out of each other. When you're done, I will tell you what you did wrong, and ways you can improve. The others, as I've said before and will keep saying, teach you all sorts of fancy combinations and tricks that have absolutely no practicality in a real battle."

He paused and eyed the crowd. "You will fight and learn, not learn and fight. Here," he bent down to the snow. "are your weapons." Menar saw him lift two wooden swords that were hidden in the snow beneath his feet. "These will hurt if you are hit, so try not to get hit. However, it's a small price to pay for not losing one of your limbs, eh?" He smiled and pointed at two people. "You, you, get up here." The crowd cheered as the two people, one middle-aged and the other quite young, hopped the fence, appearing eager to start.

The crowd cheered and Aries left the ring. "On my mark. Touch swords." They both dipped their wooden replicas in front of each other and they made a soft, but sharp clicking sound as they touched. "Three, two, one, go!" They crowd's noise quickly grew quite, waiting to see who would strike first. The young one immediatly backstepped, eyeing his adversary with a fire in his eyes. The older man glared at him with sunken eyes, watching him as a wolf would, waiting for any sign of weakness. The boy didn't move until the man started circling him. "Don't mess up, now. You wouldn't want to look like a fool in front of all these people right now, would you?" he said gruffly, not taking his eyes off him as he taunted.

The boy didn't respond, keeping his eyes on him. The man laughed "You can't-" Suddenly, the boy lurched forward, sweeping his sword at the man's side. The man reacted immediately, barely pulling his makeshift sword up in time to block it. The man followed the upwards parry by swinging down over his head with incredible strength. The boy held his sword over his head, and, as he did, he kicked the older man square in the chest. The masses roared in approval. He instantly recovered. Before long, his eyes flickered to the crowd, weary of being humilated. However, this instigated another attack. The boy swung his arm, throwing all his skill at the man.

The sound of wood on wood filled the air, and they parried each other, appearing evenly matched. However, the man's strain clearly shown on his face. The boy kicked snow up at his face, and the man nearly dropped his sword in surprise. The boy swung the sword high over his head, but, seeing that he couldn't bring his sword up in time, the man caught it, abandoning his own sword. They fought over the only sword, staggering all over the arena, trying to wrench it free from the other. The man placed his foot behind his opponent and pushed him, throwing him to the ground. He pounced onto him with a blood-lust roar and pinned him, holding the sword to his throat.

Cheers erupted. "Well," rang Aries voice. "You're fortunate that you didn't get hit. However, that doesn't change the fact that you are now dead. You must not fight cleanly, everyone." He turned to the crowd. "When you fight the Heartless," utter silence followed the word, "they will use every dirty trick in the book. They will throw things at you that even I can't train you for. If you are fighting for your life," he spoke even more loudly, emphasizing. "Use all of your resources! Or you will die. Go." The boy left the ring and once again stood in the crowd.

He nodded in acknowledgement to the man, who smiled fiercely. "What is your name?" "My name," he breathed. "is Raul!" shouting the last two words, holding his sword high in the air as the crowd boomed again. "Raul," Aries grinned. "You have done well. Take yourself proudly back to your friends, and eat well tonight. You've earned it." The man named Raul grinned and turned to the crowd, pumping his arms into the air. They cheered once more. "Alright, who's next?"

His eyes scanned the crowd, mentally matching the people by his own, unknown standards. "Let's see. Tank, you get up here." Menar watched, as well as everyone else, as a tall, muscular man made his way to the center, hopping the fence with ease. He must have been a full head taller than Menar, with muscles that bulged even more than Aries. He was very impressive. Tank roared, his voice echoing off the mountains and challenging. The crowd went absolutely insane. "Who's going up now?" Aries said to himself, his voice barely audible above the noise. "Not him, he still hasn't fully recovered for another grudge match..."

His eyes rested upon Menar. He quickly averted his eyes, but it was too late. "Ah, the newcomer! Menar, get up here." Menar winced and clambered over the fence. He didn't know much about sword fighting, save for the little he learned from his childhood wars with Vaxel, which in itself wasn't significant at all. He quickly wieghed the situation. _I definately can't match this person in strength. I'm more agile. _He frowned. _What am I going to do?_ Even then, he didn't think that would be nearly enough for this hulking figure. He felt his senses heightening, a strange feeling stirring within him. _Is that what I felt at Cajoi?_ he wondered with absolute dread. _This isn't good. _He must look scrawny and pathetic standing directly across from him. Tank glared at him.

"Now, let me tell you the rules." _Good, at least there will be some chains to hold this match down. Make it somewhat fairer. _Menar smiled weakly. "Anything goes and you can't leave the ring. That's the rules. The only ones." Menar's smile broke. Noticing it, Tank laughed. "Like I said at the last match, remember to use _all_ of your resources." He immediately thought of magic. At least he had that advantage, though it little comforted him. "If you manage to get a hit or get hit, then these swords, which are enchanted by the way, will render the limb where you were hit useless. No matter how hard the blow, they will not break. Though I can't say the same for what they hit." he chuckled, "Good luck, Menar." _What is he thinking? I was acting on instinct at Cajoi! I can't fight this man!_ Contrary to his thought, Aries called, "On my mark! Touch swords." Menar extended his. Tank swung his sword, smacking Menar's to the side with great strength. His hand stung and he began to panic.

"I said on my mark, Tank! Three," Menar felt his heart pound in his chest, trying to escape a beating by beating it's own way out. "Two," His head swirled, everything standing still, but spinning at the same time. "One," Adrenaline pumped inside him, tensing him, but he couldn't help but feel like he was melting. "Fight!" The crowd roared. As Menar expected, Tank wasted no time in taking the offensive. He swung the sword in giant arcs, giving Menar time to parry them, but he could only deflect them, not strong enough to take the full force of the blow.

With the immense power being slung at him, it was all he could do to bring his sword back up for another deflection. In no time at all, his back was almost to the ring. _No! I'm going to be trapped!_ Menar quicklyt thought. He couldn't attack with the flurry of blows barraging him, so he had little option. As Tank swung his arm in another arc, Menar dove to the side, feeling the air itself being sliced as Tank's sword whizzed by his leg, missing it by inches.

The noise that erupted from the crowd and the cry of protest from Tank was extremely loud. Menar whirled around and beheld Tank rushing him with incredible speed for his bulk. Menar swung wildly at him, slowing him down and forcing him to stop his blows. To his dismay, he was just as good with defense was his offense. He parryed his strikes with astounding ease. The crowd laughed as Tank smiled and laughed to himself, amused at Menar's frantic efforts. Menar took a step back, a respite from his opponent. Smiling, he allowed it. _Magic_ Menar thought. _Use magic!_ It was difficult enough though, just trying to keep up with him.

Menar panted. "Ready now? I won't wait forever." The bass voice that eminated from Tank suited his stature. Menar nodded, his smugness infuriating him and unleashing his determination. "Let's go." The crowd laughed once more. "As you wish." He spoke calmly. Tank roared as he again charged Menar. While Menar had stood, he had pooled all the wind he could beside him. Now, he hurled the magical gust at him, bringing up snow in it's wake as it sliced towards him. He screamed and clawed at his eyes, temporarily blinded. Menar sped forward and brought his sword down in an arc, cleaving at his leg. He didn't stop his run, using his momentum as another force to hit him with. Battlerage overflowed inside Menar and he screamed as he sent Tank summersaulting through the air and landed him on his back, knocking out his breath in a whoosh.

Everyone was silent now. Though whether it was his using magic or his actual hit he didn't know. He turned quickly, rushing at his downed opponent again. To his surprise, Tank had turned on the ground in his direction. He brought the leg he wasn't hit with up and kicked Menar in the chest. He too, had the air knocked out of him. He fell on his back. Tank bolted upright and brought his sword down upon Menar, a look of rage construing his features as he poured his malice into the swift, powerful blow. Quickly, he brought his right arm up and blocked it, with what would have been a bracer if he was armored. He screamed in pain as his wrist snapped loudly and his sword dropped. He rolled over to the far side of the arena, wincing in pain and cradling his arm. _Oh, damn! Damn, damn, damn! _He couldn't numb the pain without numbing his mind, and he needed all his senses. Tank got up on one foot and limped towards Menar.

He froze, unable to do anything except look at the defeat that loomed before him. It was over. He was trapped in one of the octagon's corners with no sword, no way out-no hope. He looked at the wooden sword beyond. If only he could reach it. Defeat was imminent, but Menar didn't yet wish to resign himself. Though it didn't look as though reality would wait for his desires. He was in too much pain to find his Connection and focus for any spell that might save him. It was only through sheer willpower that he was even aware. Tank roared in a triumphant fury as he brought his sword high over his head. "Writhe in pain, enemy! Feel the wrath of my blade and suffer!"

Menar sensed the impeding danger, and his insticts did too. The strange feelings that had lingered with him for this entire match were brought up to the surface, and the something within him awoke. It was powerful, terrible, and a part of him. He embraced it, welcoming the second wind. He glared at his sword as the one above him flashed down. Suddenly, he was standing over his sword, watching Tank's sword crash the ground, sending up snow. He had Manifested right above his sword. He picked up the weapon and ran towards Tank. He sprinted directly to his right, staring at his face, locking in his target, which was in amazment from his disappearing opponent. His right arm flapped wildly, sending bolts of pain to his wrist as he ran, but he didn't care. Tank turned to face the noise of footsteps in the snow.

Menar screamed as he jumped into the air and brought his left hand, with his sword still in it, crashing down upon his cheek. He slammed to the ground, his sword flying. Menar stood above him, pointing his sword down at his throat. Blood oozed from Tank's nose where his blow landed, then, suddenly, it came flowing out with a higher viscosity. Time stood still, except for both of their heavy breathing. If the crowd had been loud before, they were deafening now. He couldn't even hear Aries's voice as he climbed into the arena and ambled beside Menar.

Menar removed his sword and tossed it aside, letting Tank glared at Menar and stood up. Menar realized that he could move his arm now, though the same couldn't be said for his broken wrist. "Well! I never thought I'd see the day Tank fall! That was quite a show! Indeed! Excellent!" Everyone simmered to excited whispers. "Listen, everyone. I must say that that was the best fought match I have seen in my years of being here. Great job to the both of you." He gestured for Tank to leave, one that, as Tank displayed, he was unaccustomed to. "This isn't over." He growled.

Aries beamed, apparently not hearing the comment to Menar. "Son, that was spectacular! Actually, if my son's were like you-no, that's another story. _That_ was amazing. So, tell everyone here, what is your name?" "My name," Menar felt invigorated, though the subtle throb of his wrist dulled his mood. "My name is Menar Redfield." Everyone was silent. "Yes, yes you are." Aries beamed. "Everyone, you are staring at greatness here. He hasn't even been here for one lesson, never trained in swordsmanship at all, and he managed to beat the one who was the most advanced! Not only was he outmatched in strength, but swordsmanship! You can't win against that with just luck, Menar. What were you thinking about when you were fighting him?"

Menar watched as Tank stormed away, shoving people aggressively aside. He averted his eyes from the crowd that was watching him. "I was just thinking that I had to stay focused and keep my wits about me." Aries nodded deeply and solemly. "Another thing, everyone. What Menar said was very, very true. It doesn't matter solely on skill and brute strength, but your smarts." "And being able to use magic doesn't hurt." Menar conceded. Aries beamed. "Reguardless. Everyone, we have our new champion!" He grabbed Menar's wrist and held it up high. Menar quickly pulled it back and his face contorted in pain, but he quickly hid it, not wanting to appear weak in his victory.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?" The masses whispered again. He giggled, somewhat hysterically. "Well, my wrist kind of broke when he hit my arm. Heh," Aries eyes widened. "So, that was what that noise was and you still won? Astounding!" The crowd cheered again. Menar smiled. The spotlight was on him now. He would be recognized from now on in this facility. _Well, maybe being a soldier won't be so bad after all._


	9. Chapter 9: Live and Learn

_Chapter Nine_

_Live and Learn_

Menar grimanced. _I wonder how badly I hurt it. _The cold quickly numbed and reduced the swelling. Still, it was pretty engorged in it's current state. He didn't stay long after his victory, though he didn't rush off. His newfound pride wouldn't let him do that. Instead, he walked off calmly, cradling his wrist, to where Aries told him the Healer was located. He found the tent easily, for it wasn't far off from the Training Ring. He paused a moment, wondering what he would say to the Healer. He figured he would just tell the truth. He reamined outside the tent a moment longer, surpressing the desire for alliviation of his suffering. Something about this place nagged at him, trying to tell him something, though he didn't know what.

He opened the flap with his left hand, still cradling his right. _Oh no, I thought something looked familiar here. _He was staring at the inside of Nasuda's tent. Though, he didn't see her. He should have known. He walked over to the lounging area, to see if she was lying asleep, for he did not see a bed upon his first entrance. No, she wasn't lying down. He looked around for her, exasperated, wondering how long she would be gone. _She might be gone for hours. _His wrist throbbed. _I hope not. _He sat down upon one of the pillows and looked more closely at the room, anything to get his mind off of his aching wrist.

He eyed scrolls and bottles, undoubtedly potions the likes of which he did not know. The paper seemed ancient, adding to the mystifying effect of the room. It almost looked like the shop Vaxel took him to to find out if he was physic. The only difference was was that he fully believed in the power of Nasuda. There wasn't much to look upon without growing more and more curious. They seemed normal, though they, upon further inspection, clearly were not. He longed to learn more, but he feared touching what wasn't his and getting into trouble.

"Hello." Menar jerked his head towards the voice. There she stood, in one of the corners where the light could barely reach. Had she been standing there the whole time? "To what do I owe this visit, Menar?" He was impressed. She may be blind, but she was very skilled with whatever ability allowed her to see. He was quiet for a moment, formulating the words in his mind carefully. "I need your help." She smiled and walked slowly to him, sitting on one of the pillows across from him.

"Ah, I'm not certain if I can provide the help yor require, but I will surely do my best. What do you need?" She looked at him so intensely for one that was blind, it nearly made his heart race. _Well, it's best to come out with it and just get it over with_. "I broke my wrist." She cocked her head. "Hmm...On your first day? How did you manage to do that so quickly?" Menar's wrist throbbed. He didn't really feel like answering questions right now. He just wanted the pain in his wrist gone. It was almost to the point that he didn't mind it being broken, as long as there was no more pain.

"We were fighting in the ring, and-" She scowled so fiercely, that Menar was afraid she would lash out and hit him. His blood froze, and he stopped in midsentence. "I keep telling those 'Instructors' that they need to be more careful." She said calmly and coldly, unnerving Menar. "Injuries like this aren't so uncommon. Who was it? I'll bet it was Aries. He's always pushing the limits and capabilities of his trainees." "Yes." Despite her demenor, Menar laughed inwardly, smiling only because she couldn't see him. "You're intelligent." She shook her head and held out her hand, presumably for his wrist. "No, he's just predictable." Menar gave her his wrist and chuckled a bit. She smiled too. That seemingly lifted the mood. "Hmm...this is a clean break, so it shouldn't be too hard to fix. You're lucky it didn't shatter, or else the process that will follow would have been longer and much more painful. Have you ever broke a bone before?"

Menar shook his head as she summoned a bottle to herself. "No. I don't normally get myself into predicaments where I'll be injured. All of this fighting is new to me. I suppose that I'll have to be more careful, so that I won't get killed when a battle will really count." She nodded. "You learn better lessons than most of these men. They can learn all of the points of swordsmanship, but when it comes down to it, you just have to get the hit in first, and make it count, to survive mind you. I suppose I shouldn't be too angry with him. Don't move." She released his wrist and unscrewed the cap. "Now, since you are to be my pupil, and I was to summon you later today, we will move your lesson to now." She paused as she gently rubbed the balm on his wrist.

"Ouch!" Menar managed to hold his hand in place, but clenched the pillow beneath him with the other in a strain not to move. She laughed. "Oh, you whine like a newborn babe! I'll let you keep you diginity and hold it there like a man without immobilizing it. Or, are you a boy?" The pain in his wrist prevented all playfulness, nor did he harbor any desire for it. "I am Menar, not a boy, not a man, but myself." She finished rubbing his wrist and capped the bottle. He withdrew it and put it in his lap gently.

"I really enjoy your company. You're refreshing from the other swine here. You use your mind, and that is something that will really help you with me." Menar flashed back to Aries comment about 'the other two'. "What about your other students? There's two, aren't there?" She nodded, not asking how he knew about them. "Yes, they are alright. Though, they do not have the same thought process as you do. Now, pay attention, because I am going to teach you something. This lesson deal with the magical branch of Spirit. Now, what do you know of bones?"

Menar shrugged, keeping his wrist immobile, fearing of arousing another sharp pain, now that the balm had finally dulled it to a bearable state. Surprisingly quickly, too. "I know that they are a part of us, and that's pretty much it." "Well," she said. "Not much can be done with curing severe wounds of the body, because of the anatomical complexities it poses, and the lack of knowledge of the body. Flesh wounds are the most easiest to heal, though that is a lesson for another time. Feel your wrist, how swollen and inflamed it is." Menar did so, but very gently. "It's hard to feel anything past the lump there."

She nodded, her hair flowing gently over her eyes. "That's your bodily fluid, and no, it's not blood." Menar grimanced. "Well, that's nice to know." She smiled. "Well, reguardless, most, if not all, of the body's fluids are essentially water. Extract that from your skin now, please. This, of course, is Water magic." Menar looked down. _I hope this isn't painful. _"Erm, wouldn't it be wisest to see it done first, so I can learn, then apply my knowledge when you're not around to show me?" She shook her head, grinning. "It's different when you don't do it yourself. Besides, it's best to do this to a nonlifethreatening wound than when it really counts. Sometimes, the bone will protrude from the flesh and you'll need to mend it quickly. This way, you'll have the skill for life. How do you think I learned?"

"Oh. Alright." Menar placed his hand above the injury, then, carefully, extracted the fluid. Surprisingly, it didn't ale him at all. The swelling quickly dissappeared, leaving only a slightly deformed looking wrist. "Hey, I did it! That didn't hurt at all." He was enthralled at the simplicity of it. "Wonderful. That was the easy part. Now, for the real test. To mend the bone, it will require both Spirit and Water magic. Now, Spirit is what makes the bone whole, and it provides structure and form to our body. Instead of feeling the fluid motion of water, try to feel the roughness of it, and solidfy it with Spirit. Be sure that you don't seek to create new bone, but heal the one that is broken."

Menar was terrified. What would happen if he did make more? _Oh, God help me! _His mind raced and he licked his lips. "God, I'm afraid. What if I...mess up?" She didn't smile. "What I put onto you will protect you from all of the pain in that area. If you do, I'm sure your experience level, which is neigh, will not be enough to produce more than a spec of bone before you sever the magic flow. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Menar looked down at his wound, every detail that befell his sight rapidly became sharper. Every sense he possessed became more intense, as with his fear. The texture of his skin, the rapid beating of his pulse. _Here's hoping for the best. _Menar probed the bone beneath him, grimacing at the feel of it scraping ever so slightly together. He made his motivations clear within his mind, and tried to connect it with his own Connection, something that he had never tried before. He decided to ask her if it would help him any or, for that matter, hurt him. "Will fusing my desires with my Connection help any? Or will it hinder the magic flow?"

She smiled from ear to ear, as large as she had yet to smile. "Ah, excellent. Your thought process increases with danger, as often does. Especially with one's self. Yes, that does seem to help. In your case, since you are not yet experienced, I would naturally assume that it would help you immensely, if not more than the experienced practicioner. A good question...indeed."

Menar paused a moment after she said nothing more. _What was the point of coming here, then? If I am to heal my wound myself? _The rational side of him spoke. _So that you may learn. That's that point of this encampment, to ensure that you will become a more educated, well-rounded person, and these people trust that their efforts will not be wasted. _He snorted. _Whose efforts?_

He grew weary of debating within himself and poked his wrist, the sudden hotness burning and withering away all thoughts. The only thing that he allowed to remain was the desire to heal it, and his Connection. He felt the bone, with his fingers, with his body, and with his mind. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt them twisting under his fingers and coming together. It hurt, almost as bad when he had broken it. He stopped the magical flow and gasped. He knew that it was working, because he could feel whatever fibers that connected it being replaced and restitched, so to speak.

He took a long breath before he compacted within himself not to stop again until the process was done. Otherwise, he feared he would be too afraid to continue and see it through. He swallowed and finished the process. The seconds that dragged by seemed like an eternity. When it was finally done and over with, he let out his breath in a whoosh. "Wow." he panted. "That really hurt." She hummed. "You know, when one of my student successfully fufills and learns a lesson, I like to reward them. It's an old-fashioned method, the one of punishment and reward, but I find it works quite well."

She held out her hand again, and Menar didn't hesitate to place his wrist in her palm. "I will allieviate your pain. That much, I know how to do. Maybe one day I will teach you that skill. As for now, you have done well in your brief lesson. This skill, bone-mending, will come in handy one day. I garentee it." In an instant, his pain was gone. He took back his hand and carefully twisted it in the air, admiring it in the light. "Why didn't you do that before? That would have made this whole thing a lot easier and less stressful for me! The balm had no point either if you could do that!"

She laughed, irritating him further. "In that, my friend, you are wrong. The balm in itself was a gift! Sometimes, medicinal supplies will not be readily avalible. Though, you are still learning, and I am not without concious. That is why you will learn all you need to know before this month is over. Do you wish to leave?" Menar frowned. "Do I have reason to stay?" She stood up, as did Menar. "No, not unless you wish to entreat me with your presence. I must say, for one so few of words and distant, you have quite a magnetic trait to you. I wonder why that is?" She shuffled over to a corner and began to search through some of her bags for something unknown.

Menar's stomach growled. "Well, I suppose I will see you later. Is there any time that I should be expecting you?" She waved him goodbye. "Not until tomorrow. That is, if there is one." Menar furrowed his brow. _Well, that was slightly... odd. _He opened the flap of the tent. "What I mean by that is each day is a gift. Do not come to expect the tidings of tomorrow, today, or more often than not you will be sorely disappointed. Farewell." "Farewell."

Menar braced himself for the bitter cold outside. "Interesting lady." he mused within himself. He stood in the cold a moment, admiring his newly restored wrist, the fruits of his labor. "Well," he mumbled as he left towards the cafetira. "At least that's over with. I'm glad I finally learned a useful spell for once. I wonder what else she will have in store for me?

The trip to the cafeteria wasn't long, but it was cold. The wind didn't pick up, though, and for that he was grateful. The sun had managed to hide itself behind one of the large, but few clouds there were in the sky, sending the world into a darkened state. Compacted snow crunched slightly underneath his feet, making his trip a slippery one. Vibrations from the snow went up his leg and gave him a small satisfaction. It felt like he was on top of everything, and the feeling that something beneath him was crumbling in his wake and submitting to him. It felt...divine.

Menar shook his head. _What am I thinking? Agh, it's like Brother Paul said. 'If victory brings arrogance, it will surely bring defeat.' _The cafiteria tent was clearly visible when he rounded past a cluster of them. The cafeteria tent was enormous, equaling about a score of other tents, and it actually had some personality to it. Which is to say, there were several names scrawled on the tent. Obviously they were not only from the present, but from the past, due the the vastness of it.

He entered the tent, suddenly wondering what kind of food they had, because the delicious aroma that wafted to his nose when he entered reminded him of carefully roasted and seasoned vension. He didn't have it often, only when merchants and trappers traveled through Cajoi, resulting in a booming merchandise sale due to the thrifiness of the wares. As for the area itself, it was fairly large. There were long bench tables aligned perfectly parallel to each other, it's old wood worn smooth by the trays and people. Despite it's hard look, it's worness promised a seat that was broken-in and assured comfort for whomever wished to rest a spell.

The warmth of the tent and the food that would enter his belly made his mouth water. He briefly imagined falling asleep here after his meal. _Heh, I could definately appease the idea. It would be a lot more comfortable than using _my_ tent. _He walked up to the large, one piece wooden bar. There wasn't a menu, but he didn't really expect any. After all, it would be difficult to find a variety of eats upon a hilltop. For that matter, how did they even get food up here? Surely there wasn't enough game for everyone to eat upon.

One of the cooks approached him. He seemed like an average man. Medium hieght, build. The only remarakable feature about him, was his thick moustache, beard, and eyebrows. His hair undoubtedly suited him for the weather. Without question or comment, he brought a tray from the back, steaming hot with a delacacy. He didn't realize how ravenous he was before. "Wow, that smells really good. What is it?" The man stared at him and handed him his food mildly. "It's mountain goat." He looked down at the meat among the leafy greens and potatoe.

"Hmm. How do you all recieve food up here? I have a hard time believing that you can grow potatoes up here." Menar smiled, but the man didn't smile in turn. In fact, he made a face. "Oh, God. You have no idea how many times I hear that, every month from every recruit that comes. It's food. Enjoy it or pass it on. I don't care. I just serve the stuff." Menar was taken aback. "I'm sorry I- I didn't mean to-" "Yeah, well I serve a lot of people in one day three times a day. So the biggest favor you could do me is sit down and just enjoy your meal." He gave a small salute, though he didn't know if it was mockingly or not. "Have a nice day."

Menar turned on his heel. _People sure aren't friendly up here. Maybe it's the weather. _He sat down on the nearest bench. He smiled slightly. It was nice and cozy.He dug into the food, flavors exploding in a glorious sensation upon his tounge. He was surprised at the quality. It was even better than the Sanctuary's. His stomach growled and demanded more sustance. He gluttonously complied, shoving in mouthful after mouthful as soon as he swollowed. He allowed his mind to explore the past events, present, and future. After a while, he wondered why everyone was so curt. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, an answer came to him. '_We don't talk like that around here...so, where are you from?' _He couldn't believe he had been so niave.

The people of Cajoi, though poor and down trodden as most cities, were always a relatively close nit, even if not that, a friendly town, due to the generations of families there. He had no idea where these people came from, or the nature of their towns. They could have came from cities like Navaje, Cakuhaul, or some other unfriendly city that lay upon Strom. Port James itself was next to the Necroserum River. Though being near the port made the taxes somewhat lighter for the city, it was still as poor as any other city. Although, the port was solely for merchants and trade. Slaves and immigrants weren't allowed through, which meant that none of them had to settle and intergrate with thier culture, allowing it to be relatively untainted.

He took a moment to muse over the fact. He wouldn't doubt it if it hadn't changed much over the past century. The attack that happened was unfortunate. As much as he hated to admit it, it might be better for them in the long run. It would create more jobs, more pay- and the products that had been amassed due to a reduction of demand would go even more cheaply now that people would actually purchase items to replace it after the battle, helping businesses. _God sure does work in mysterious ways. _He reflected on what Brother Paul said, and put his fork aside for a moment and took a drink of the water that came on the tray.

_An instrument of God. Is that what he meant by my dreams? Did he think that God sought to use me? For what purpose?_ He stared down at his remaining vegitables, already feeling his stomach getting full. He downed the last of it. _I don't think that He sought to use me for that purpose. My mother was with the Heartless. Her bearing me could have something to do with it. It couldn't have been God; He doesn't meddle in the affairs of mortal men unless it the world hung in the balance. _That much he believed in. _Though, they did say that this was their first attack in...how long was it? Oh, I don't know. _He puzzled. _They are going to try and take over the world. What if God...? No, it couldn't be._

He rose from the table and put his tray on a table beside the bar with some other soiled trays. The man he saw before poked his head around the corner at the clatter. "Thanks, it was good." The man smiled and gave him a thumbs up before disappearing around the corner again. He didn't know how long he had been eating, but when he was outside, he realized it must have been about one in the afternoon, perhaps somewhat later. He decided to head back to his tent and read. He thought of Manifesting there. _Well, I'm allowed to now, and it would be good to practice that ability. _He closed his eyes and almost did it. _Wait, that is the farthest I would have ever done it. Our tent isn't to far from the edge of the mountain _ His heart sank and he opened his eyes, mortified, yet glad that he thought of it. "Maybe I'll just hold off on that." He muttered, and walked towards his camp. There were plenty more people outside, most of them in groups doing various activities. Interestingly enough, each one of them stopped and eyed him warily, though he didn't know with what emotion. It would have helped if he did. _I hope people aren't afraid of me._ Although, he kind of liked the power and influence over the people, for it ment, if people held any resentment for him appearing late and not walking up the mountain, they certainly wouldn't cause him any trouble now or during his stay. Still, he held true to Remus's opinion and didn't plan on parading the fact around.

He approached his tent and walked in quickly, not wanting to anger Chris if he was in there and start another scene. He was. He was playing some sort of game that Menar wasn't familar with when he walked in, stopping and gaping at him when the tent flap opened. Menar threw him a curious glance and went to his bed, crawling into the warmth and grabbing the book next to him. He had just cracked it open when Chris finally spoke. "So, you're Menar Redfield, right?" Menar nodded and flipped the page. He hated it when the title was in the front. He could clearly see that on the cover. "Yes." "Son of Estan Redfield, right?" Menar closed his eyes. He didn't want to go through his personal affairs when was in such a good mood with a stranger. Well, more or less a stranger.

He closed the book and sat upright, looking him in the eye. "Aye." Chris was wide eyed, his eyes large and unblinking. He reminded Menar of an oversized doll for a girl. "Do-do you know who you are?!" Menar nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. I just told you who I was." "No, I mean who your father was?" Menar froze. He didn't want to sound uninformed of his own parents when Chris might know something he don't. "Why? Do you know something about him that I may not?" He frowned then. "No, not really. It's just common knowledge of what I know. He was a legend among the Crusaders." Menar's heart pounded, and he felt irrevocably proud. Something inside of him felt extremely satisfyed, something he had surpressed, and had a difficult time remembering what exactly he kept under lock and key for so long.

"He always led battles, fought the fiercest, killed the most, and conquered beasts terrible and unimaginable! He's the idol of every recruit, the role model we were presented with since the first day we started training. He did so many things, so many things." Menar winced, though he felt enthralled with pride. _Well, despite my mother, my father seems to be a nice enough person. I wonder why he fell for his enemy, then? _"I'm just sorry that he disappeared. It must have been rough on you." Menar shrugged.

"In all honesty, I never knew him. I was orphaned when I was little." He wondered how he would react if he knew his mother was a Heartless. He decided to preserve his father's memory; His deeds had at least earned him that. Chris looked surprised. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed..." Menar shook his head. "No, it's okay. Most of the students where I come from are orphans. Except for this one girl I knew, Megan. I have no idea how she managed to get in."

Chris's eyes grew wider than they had all evening. "'Megan' who?" Menar put his hand under his chin and thought. _Oh, I know her last name. She told it in front of the class once._ He thought back to the first time he saw her and tried to imagine the events play out again in his mind. "Megan Stratford. I believe. A rather strange name I think." "No kidding! I thought of the same thing whenever I first met her!" Menar was genuinely surprised. "You knew her? Really?"

Chris leaned back in smug satisfaction, probably glad that there was some closure on someone he knew. "Yes, she used to go to my school before she transferred. She was a rather odd girl. Always by herself and never really talking to anyone much. A loner." Menar felt poor that he had always been avoidful of her. "Oh, I had no idea. She-" he hesitated. "She always seemed to have this crush on me. She even kissed me on the day she found out that I was to be leaving soon, the day the battle happened."

"What battle?" Menar berated himself. There he went, getting his emotions mixed up and telling something that he didn't really want to. Then again, what was the harm in telling him? After all, he was bound to find out sooner or later. "The battle. The Heartless attacked my city." Chris looked confused, like he wasn't sure what exactly to say. "Well, it wasn't too bad. We managed to hold off. Something, as I understand, not many cities have done, if any. We are a very strong culture." Chris nodded. "Same here." he smiled. "Though, our culture is more of the rough and tumble, spirit's in hand, hearty country culture."

"Ah, that's why you don't like the moutaintops. You prefer the woods and open plains, then?" He nodded vigerously, emphasizing his response. "So," inquired Menar. "What about Megan? Do you know why she transferred?" Chris shook his head, looking a bit sad. "No, I always felt sorry for her. The other girls used to tease her. It must have felt horrible. It's was probably for the best though, eh?" "I didn't know much about her social life, but I wasn't rude to her. At least, not outright." Tom nodded. "As you shouldn't be. Treat women with respect." Menar laughed. "You demonstrate your people's culture well, now that I think of it." "Damn straight. I can also demostrate the way a country man eats, which is what I'm about to do now. Want to join me?"

Menar shook his head. "No thank you, I'm going to read some." He held up the book. "Get a picture of what I'm dealing with here." Chris laughed loudly. "I don't read much. Though, firewood is hard to come by." He pointed to a darkened spot in the middle of the tent Menar had not noticed before. "So I burned it to keep warm. Now I won't have that problem since you're here. Well, I'm off. Later." "Bye." Menar put a small flame beside him, but far enough from his bed so that he could read by as he opened the book and began to read when Chris left.

__ __

* * *

He finished the book in less than an hour. He was almost tempted to go back and read it again, to see if there were any hints of secrets about the cult that he could glean from the book. The book didn't say much. Most, if not all, of it was filled with debatable propaganda to instill fear of the Heartless, not to better equip him with knowledge of their actual history as he would have, and did, thought. Books were relatively rare, because they had to be handwritten, and not everyone was literate. He was required of it in his studies. If he wouldn't have been required, he questioned if he would have learned on his own. Then again, he would have probably been to ignorant to care. For him, reading opened up new worlds and doors. With illeteracy, he would have no door to lead him into another world, just closed ones trapping him within a primitive mind.

The only information that he could gain from the book, was that the Heartless forged the Powerwell Talisman together, a successful tool to delve deep into magic and harness the Five Elements with unparallel ability. Similar to the same thing that Ulrik had told him his first day. With that, they also mentioned a myth that Lucifer himself created the Talisman, supposively during his fall to aid him to take over God.

It didn't say how the Heartless came to acquire it. He assumed that fact, accompanied with the lack of information and loopholes, is what likely caused the discrediting of the theory. He wondered, though, why it was in the book. _Well, _he thought, _It could be used to bring nonbelievers closer to God and accept Him. _From his studies, he had learned that the Crusaders were, at one point long ago, the sole defining factor in the ruling of the country, a theocracy. However, when countries aside Strom came to hardship, people moved to this country. Intergrated and diverse cultures is what caused the Christian goverment to fall to rule under the Vasnir family, the blood line of the current king which overthrew the Crusaders genertaions ago.

Rather than abolish the Crusaders altogether, Alabaster Vasnir, the First King, decided to incorperate the Crusaders as a part of his monarchy. This way, he could still retain his position and rule over the organization, while keeping it's followers. A dangerous move, but one that settled well.

Menar stared at the back of the book. By evidence of the hastily scrawled handwriting and the poor binding of the book, for it had already begun falling apart, he judged that this was the copy every recruit had recieved. Initally judging by the size of the book, he had expected this to consume the day. Though, as he found, most of the pages were blank. There was only about a sixty pages, if that. He assumed it would be for the ventures of the soldier that acquired it.

He thought it would be a good idea to utilize it. Who knows? If he studied the tactics, structure, or anything else of the Heartless, he may reveal something interesting and useful. Brother Paul always told him that knowledge was everywhere, everlasting, and infinite. Now, since he was certain he couldn't learn anything further from the book, he had no idea what to do with himself. In the dark, he thought of what to do next, mulling about in his own conciousness. After sitting for a long while, his thoughts rambled through his mind, juggling and melding into strange new ideas, ones that were lost to him soon after. It was boardline euphoric.

He sat up, suddenly alert. Something was prodding at him. It wasn't his odd feeling again, no. That was something that touched him deeper, something he knew was a part of him, himself. This was inside of his mind, and he knew it wasn't his. This was something different, strange-alien. It was in his mind, but the force that seemed to probe it was from the outside. He sensed magic. The strange new sensation was terrifying.

Alarmed, he rushed out of the tent, running as fast as he could to Nasuda's abode. Colors rushed by in a blur giving him tunnelvision. It didn't take him long before all of his vison was blurred, because of the cold that wrought water to his eyes. _What if it's the Heartless trying to control me? What if they found me? Oh, God! I've endangered the entire base! Everyone! _He was ready to fight if he had to if they appeared. All the while during his run, he could feel the inseccant prodding at his mind, poking and feeling. He ran faster, pumping his legs, snow flying behind him with people's stares chasing him.


	10. Chapter 10: Gratified Graduation

_Chapter Ten_

_**A Gratfiying Graduation**_

He approached Nasuda's tent rapidly, flinging open the flap. His eyes quickly scanned the room and he found her, reading a scroll on the loungeing pillows in the same spot when he had first seen her. She looked up, startled by the unexpected entry. She reached inside her robes, and began to pull out something that glinted in the candlelight that lit the room. Then she paused in her quick, fluid movement. "Menar? Is that you?" Though the motion was brief, he recognized it as a dagger as she quickly put it away. _Why did she reach for her knife? _He wondered. _What did she expect?_ "There's something wrong. You need to help me!" Despite the urgency in his voice, her tone drew one of exasperation. "Did you hurt yourself again so soon? I swear-" "No! There's magic in my head, from someone else." Her face grew pale. She motioned him over urgently, her face instantly turning pale.

"Try to think of nothing and make your way to me. Be calm and quiet. Quickly now!" Menar closed his eyes and walked to her, bumping into a stand and knocking over a bottle in his wake. It must have landed upon one of the many pillows that littered the tent, because he didn't hear it crash on the floor. He outstreached his arms blindly, stumbling over the soft, unstable pillows, and felt it grabbed by Nasuda as she pulled him down hard. He fell face-first onto the pillows and didn't get up. It was clear by her vigorous motion that she wanted him to lay down.

She put her hand on the base of his neck and nestled the other under his forehead. It was a long while before she spoke. "Well, I had been told of your history, Menar. You had me quite worried when you came barging in like that and ranting like a mad man." She chuckled. "Sit up and open your eyes." Menar did so, desperately curious as to why this was so amusing to her. He could still feel the thing in his mind. "It's good that you can readily recognize magic. Though, I seriously doubt that this is Dark Magic." "Well then, what is it?" Her green eyes stared at him, blankly peering at him through the viel of her hair but the rest of her features was joyful. "Here."

She waved her hand in the air in front of Menar's face. Suddenly, Menar heard voices, not from the tent, but inside of his head. "_...don't think he can._" Another voice made itself clear. "_Of course he can. He is _very_ talented._" Menar recognized the voice instantly. "Vaxel?" he said aloud. "_Menar! I'm glad you finally can hear me now! How have you been?_" Nasuda cocked her head. "A friend of yours?" Menar nodded, smiling. "Can you hear him?" She shook her head. _"Hear who?" _"Not you, I'm talking to the person who helped me answer you. Why...how did you do this?" Menar could hear him laugh.

"I'll give you a moment's privacy. Then, when you're ready to sever the Connection, speak my name." She disappeared into thin air without another sound. In the instant before she left, he detected a smile through the dark curtain that almost concealed her face. _"Well, I'm having someone here tutor me in magic. This is one of my first lessons, contacting people through magic. This is so wierd; I can't believe I'm contacting you through thoughts!" _"Wait, you're thinking this to me?" _"Yes!" _His voice sounded joyful and exuberant. _"Oh, can you hear me?" _Menar thought. _"Loud and clear, bud. I must admit I was worried when I saw Brother Paul carring you out of the city, especially since there were so many bodys around the two of you. I thought you had gotten hurt. _

Menar frowned. _"No, I'm fine, but he injured his arm fighting them. He has healed it since then, though. Where are you at?"_ There was a brief lapse before he spoke again. _"I'm in Trojem. I'm a Crusader now. I could ask you the same question though." _Menar laughed. _"I'm also at a training base, but I don't think I'm allowed to tell you where. Heck, I really don't even know where I am! Somewhere on a mountaintop." _ _"Whoa, that's intense! I don't think that there are any in the moutains though. Well, the Elite are probably different than the King's army." "Yeah," _Menar thought, disdain and disappointment filling him. _"Ulrik said as much. What happened? At Cajoi?" _Vaxel spoke quickly, as if this was the pinnicle of motivation for his contacting him.

_"I dropped Claire off at the base. Before you say anything, I told her about your little crush." _Menar flustered. _"It was the only way to get her to stay! Besides, she feels the same way about you." _Suddenly, his heart lightened and everything seemed alright. His skin didn't creep with cold, the dim gloom of the tent didn't seem so dark. In fact, he felt warm and the world bright. "That's wonderful."he murmered, feeling pangs of fury. He couldn't believe how he had wasted all the time, all the precious moments together when he could have told her his feelings. Now, they were wrenched away. Though, they had never really been together until the end.

_"After I left her and spent a while looking for you. Then, one of the Heartless came out of nowhere! When he had his back turned, I grabbed a rock and I actually killed him, Menar! You wouldn't believe the rush! I never felt anything like it before. It was like-" _Fury filled Menar. _"Now, you hold it right there! Killing may sometimes be nessicary, but it doesn't make the deed glorious! I don't want to ever hear you say something like that again!" _Menar was surprised at his response. _"Gosh, you don't have to yell, I was just worried about you."_ It had never occured to Menar that his thoughts, strange as it already was, could take on the same range and pitch as his voice could.

_"Well, anyaways, I did what I had to do. He already had his sword drawn and had killed someone. I just wish I would have gotten there sooner. It's not that I enjoy death; I don't think I'll ever forget the victom's face...I found you a short while later. You were being dragged away by a couple of those men. Then, you rose in the air and did magic I've never seen before! I want to know how you did that. _

_ After you fell, Brother Paul caught you. He's pretty strong, but that's besides the point. He started running out of the gates before any of them could come to the dead Heartless's aid. He told me to go back, but I refused. I couldn't leave you like that. I followed you two into the woods. When you guys stopped fort the night, he told me that I could watch over you for the night, possibly help if any of the Heartless saw us and came after us. Then, he said I had to go back, because." _He gave a small chuckle. _"'Two's company, three's a crowd.' I think he didn't want to leave more tracks than he had to, because he said that it was possible they could be searching for you. Why is that?"_

Menar sighed. So they _were_ looking for him. That's why they ran away, but what was the other reason, the one he wouldn't tell him? _"Well, I'm not sure why." "Come on Menar, you can tell me!" "I don't know!" _Menar insisted. _"But I know that it was serious and...Crual was there, one of the three founders of the Heartless." "Whoa," _Vaxel seemed to breathe. _"Wouldn't he be holed away, protected?" "I don't know. That's kind of the situation with me right now. I may be 'an important asset', but they want me to fight. I also took a life, well, quite a few, actually, at Cajoi. I don't know if it's something I want to keep doing. It's not quite what I imagined when we were smaller." _

Vaxel snorted. _"Yeah, but it's something that you are really good at. What you did during the fight was incredible. I'm not glorifying, their deaths," _He added hastily. _"But it was incredible, and I never imagined you so capable. How'd you do that?" "Again, I don't know. Something strange has been happening to me lately. I don't think I can explain a lot of things right now. It may just be a talent of mine." _Menar could feel himself growing tired. Maintaining this Connection was tolling. Coupled with the events of today, it was near exhausting.

_"Vaxel, I'm glad to see you, and I'm dying to know how you are doing, but-" "You're getting tired?" _Menar smiled. Vaxel always seemed to know what he was thinking. He chuckled inwardly. Now, he really did know what he was thinking. _"Yeah, my mentor here says, depending on the distance, it costs more energy to talk to you. Being on a mountain doesn't help either." "I agree. This is tiring me out too. Especially after our_ _arduous_ _training today." "Heh, they are actually making me do acedmics here. I suppose I should have listened to you." "Well, they're opposite here. It's all fightining and rudeness. It seems they have mixed us up! Well, I'll," _he paused, searching for the right words. _"_think _you later." "Bye." "Bye."_

He felt Vaxel's conciousness in his mind dissipate. It was odd, feeling two presences in his mind. "Nasuda, I'm finished." After a moment, she appeared standing before him, bringing some of the cold wind from wherever she had been with her, the snowflakes on her dress quickly melting in the warmth of the tent. Obviously, she had been outside. "Well, how did it go? Did you enjoy communing with your friend?" A hint of a smile tugged on her lips. "Yes. Why did you leave instead of telling me that I could talk inside of my head?"

She laughed. "I had to drop off the scroll I was writing on. I was filling in a status report to Remus on one of my students. You should meet them shortly." She sat down, the hem of her crepe-like dress spreading out in all directions, like a flower blossoming. It suddenly occured to him. "Wait, how is it that you can wright when you are blind?" She lay down on her side, still facing him, as she sighed heavily. "I had wondered when you'd ask. I was surprised you didn't when you first met me, or did you just not want to seem impolite?" Menar was embarassed. The thought should have crossed his mind earlier. "No, I hadn't thought about it, honestly."

"Well, no matter. I used to not always be blind, you know. When I was a girl, I worked in my father's tavern, a good, honest man mind you. Ever since I was eleven I worked for him. Though, I always had to stay behind the bar, where there was a door that led to the back stock. I refilled and took inventory. It was a good business, one that kept me busy." Silence followed for a while. Then, "One day, as my father was tending to buisness upstairs and I was refilling the barrel that dispensed the spirits, a fight broke out." She laughed manically, frightening Menar. "I was always told that if there was trouble, and he wasn't around, to fetch him. Well, I did."

"As the two men fought, the crowd had moved to the corners, as they normally did so noone would be hit. One of them stumbled and fell back into me, as I was running through the crowd, as they were still backing away. I didn't see him coming and he knocked me over into a table. Well, I cracked my head fairly good upon it and was knocked out." Menar flinched on the inside. He wouldn't doubt that it hurt, for he had bonked his head amany a time. "When I came to, I was lying in my bed, but it was dark. I thought it was nighttime, but I soon discovered I was blind. I was useless."

"I'm sorry that happened to you." She shook her head, declining the condolence. "I hate it when people say that. I'm not sorry it happened. The Druid, or Healer as you may call it, who brought me away from the cliffs of death couldn't do anything for me, so I asked her to teach me the ways of magic. I felt guilty for my father, because my mother died in childbirth. He would have had to quit or sell the tavern to take care of me. She taught me, and every day, I grew stronger.

"Eventually, she helped me imbue my body with a spell that amplifyed the vibrations of movement around me so I could tell you a persons height, weight, or position just by them moving. It took a long while to master, but I have mastered the ability now. That's why I told you my blindness is a strength, not a weakness. While I may not be able to," she chuckled. "see as long as you or anyone else, I can move about in the dark and see."

"Ah, I had assumed something of that nature whenever I fidgeted and your eyes followed me." She grinned toothily, he shoulders moving up and down as though she were compressing a chuckle. "Yes, I have a habit of doing that, still moving my head where my interest is. It isn't nessicary, but something I found I couldn't break myself entirely of. How's your wrist by the way?" Menar could tell by the drastic change in subject that she didn't want to linger upon her blindness any longer, and she didn't blame her. She have grown weary of it, after so long.

"It's perfect, but it still tingles like an itch I can't scratch. I think that the reason I haven't marveled at it, is because I didn't endure it's immobility for long that it became an inconvienence for me, so I can't appreciate it as well as I could have. I just hope I don't ever lose my abilities in magic, because then I would be in some trouble. It's helped me plenty of times while I've been here." She nodded, satisfied. "Wonderful. I like the fact that your so anylitical." Menar felt slightly guilty for not denying her comment. He had come to know himself more and more recently. Something that he learned about himself, was that he didn't really consider the implications of things until he vocalized them. He supposed he learned that from supressing his feelings about his parents.

"I suppose. How is it that you can do that? Brother Paul, my old magic teacher, said that he had to do that with my Headmaster after the Battle of Cajoi." "Your mind is something that is most incredible. Without it, spirit magic wouldn't be so complicated, but it balances in this case. Because of the body's physical construction, it is virtually identical to every other one, like water and ice. They may look different, but essentially they are the same thing. In a way, we are all connected through each other, like water. When it's together, all the droplets form as one. When you are by more people, thoughts bounce off of each other and reverberate through people. Our minds are naturally contained, but not our thoughts. That takes practice." "Like blocking telepaths? Brother Paul said that he was a telepath." "Mmm. Yes, like blocking telepaths. As for your previous mentor, that is nothing too special among magic users. You can do that, but it is dangerous to make your mind venture out." "But he said that they eminated from people. He read my mind."

She sat up. "Of course, thoughts are the products of the mind. However, like I said, thoughts aren't contained. It takes practice to interpret the exact meaning of the thought, because they come in coded waves that are familar with your mind, but it comes in as an emotion or an image. To exactify it, you must concentrate very hard upon the thought, becaus when it comes through the air, especially with distance, it becomes distorted and eventually unrecognizeable. It can be turned on or off." "I wonder why he didn't just tune everyone out, then, at Navaje." "Well, that town isn't the best place to do that in. Very dangerous. It requires a deep understand of spirit magic to do that. Anyways, with it's reverberation off people, it enters the mind and is interpreted in the brain, and is sent out of the person as a new reflection of the thought while the other dies in the persons brain. To interpret this, you must know Spirit magic at a base level. With the spell rendered just now, you were aptly focusing your thoughts upon a certain structured form of a body. Which is to say, you were focused on who you wanted to commune with. Using magic, your energy, and other people, you could commune with him. When you activate the spell, it branches out, trying to find the person you were thinking of. It's like a lock, searching for a key. Your thoughts, which in itself are coded, were searching for the right person to unlock them, so that he or she could view them."

"Wow, that's incredibly complex." She nodded. "Such is the way of Spirit magic. Many things are possible with it. It's not a difficult spell, as long as you know the persons features. I assume you know his or hers. So whenever you feel that feeling again, or want to contact him, just allow him in. I allowed him into your mind, because he doesn't know how to penitrate concious thought, like professional telepaths. When you do contact someone though, your thoughts will branch out until you sever the flow, or find them. The farther your thoughts go, the more energy you expend. I will teach you more about this if you are interested and want to learn on your own time, when other matters permit me to. That's but a small portion of what I can teach.

"At the schools that train in magic, other than one that prepare you for battle, magic depends upon your knowledge and inginuity, becuase the Jr. Schools, as I call them, do not educate you in the finer points of magic. Have you ever done something like that?" Menar flashed back to when he and Vaxel had frozen the small lake over. He wondered now if it was still frozen through the battle. "Yes, I turned water to ice." She bowed her head. "Yes, magic is unlimited, such is knowledge. Remus is always saying that knowledge is power, and he is right."

There was silence. Menar liked her company. He didn't often feel this way with other girls, and he knew it wasn't a romantic connection. This left him feeling awkward. "Well, are you able to wright? Can you read?" "Yes, I can read, that's how I learned to wright. I must turn everything I read into a relief, so that I can run my fingers over the words and I recognize the patterns and they formed words. The Druid that taught me magic also taught me that. I owe her everything I am now, my life too. I could read some before, but she furthered my knowledge to new heights."

Silence once again followed. He knew they were running out of things to say, and he didn't honestly want to stay. "I'm very tired from the events today. I never really felt the full costs of expending energy through magic, because at the Sanctuary, we always played it safe with magic. I'm going to have to practice it more if I am to broaden my knowledge. Thank you."

"If you are to become a great magic user, the best ability you could possibly possess, is the ability to make new things familar, and familar things new. I find that nugget of information invaluable. Good luck in your endevors, Menar. Sleep well." He stood up carefully, not wanting to lose his balance on the pillows. "Farewell. You have a good night." Menar turned and exited the tent, into the cold. He decided to try something new with magic right off the bat. He indulged in his mind, immersed himself in magical energy, and he insulated himself against the cold weather. He smiled, for he no longer felt the sting of cold. A sudden gust came. It was more like a spring breeze now, no longer unfriendly. He no longer feared magic. However, he promised himself he would still be cautious. Overstepping the boundaries of oneself to cast magic was still dangerous.

He walked past the labryinth of gray tents, cirumnavigating the immense pillar that held up Remus's office, if that's what it was to be called, atop it. As he walked, he ran into many people. Most acknowledge him with a nod, a wave, or even a smile and kind word. He smiled in turn. Everything was right with the world. When he reached his own tent, he felt suddenly fortunate that he didn't run into Tank. It would probably be best to aviod him. He went inside the tent and saw Chris inside. He was once again playing the game that Menar found him playing earlier. He looked up.

"Hey." "Hey." Menar closed the flap and walked over to his bed. With a space so small, it was impossible to lounge. He decided that, in his free time, instead of heading to the Rec Center, he would practice magic or his swordmanship. If he could, he would venture to the other Instructors and see what they taught. As he went under the covers, he severed his insolation spell and lit another fire to warm the tent, which Chris grunted in thanks.

He guessed that Chris didn't normally go there, because his social skills weren't the best. Menar didn't go to sleep just yet, but rather watched him. "I have a question." He stared at his game, contemplating. When he next moved a small wooden piece, he spoke, "I have an answer." Menar grinned. "What were some of the other things, if any, you heard about my father and what he did?"

"Well," he frowned, probably displeased of the direction his game turned. Menar was curious how to play. "Not much. He fought good, hard, and often. It was said that he had the blood of one of Jesus's prophets, though that's just a rumor." Menar's heart quickened. _Is that why I had that vison? But why now?_ "He was also a good healer, and that's probably because of his holy blood." He thought of his mother. _Whatever 'holy blood' I may have had, is definately tainted by my mother. _He flashed back to Cajoi. _I wonder why she would have joined that group anyways? I hope she's thinking about that heavily while she's burning in Hell. _

He was disgusted with her, so he asked another question, obscuring his mother from it. "What about his romantic life?" He shook his head. "We were told that his abilities were required in so many places, that he never had the chance to settle or meet any women. Though, it leaves me wondering about your birth. Do you know who your mother is?" Menar shook his head, perhaps too fast. "She died shortly after childbirth. Yellow Bed Fever." Vaxel snorted. "Well, I won't be in this for the rest of my life, won't be like him. After this I'll probably be a smith or the like." Menar frowned. "I didn't have a choice on entering, so I don't think I'll have a choice leaving."

Chris smiled, moving the pieces more often. Every time he did, his smile broadened. "Nah, everyone is forced into this. Depending on how good you are, depends on your job in the Elite and length of stay. You won't stay in here for the rest of your life if you don't want to, they can't do that. Unless you are required by the king, which is what your father, I'm still getting used to the idea, Estan was ordered to."

_Ah,_ thought Menar, _That's why he ran away with my mother, because he couldn't court her in his life, espically since she was the _enemy. His head spun. So many contradictions lay within that. _Why did he do that? I can't complain, because I wouldn't be born. _The thought made him even more curious to find out what happened. He doubted he'd ever know. "I don't really think you understand the great things your father did. He was a hero to many cities. I wouldn't doubt it if you were rolling in gold one day. Just remember poor little me, eh?"

"Yeah, little old you." _I'll see tomorrow if Nasuda knows anything about my father. _The tent had become warm enough, so he exterminated the flame. "Wait, can you light this candel? I'm almost finished with this game, and now my eyes aren't adjusted to the dark." He procured a candle from somwhere beside him. "I kept it on hand since now I don't have a problem finding matches." Menar lit it. "Thanks. I'm glad you can use magic." "Me too. Good night." Menar turned over and went to sleep quickly, exhausted.

The next day wore on. At the training ring, he went again undefeated, though he wasn't matched up against Tank this time, for he wasn't there. He heard whisper that he was afraid of Menar. With magic, Menar defeated his opponent easily, more confident now and more able, since he found most of them weren't experienced swordsmen. When he was finished, his coin burned in his pocket and he went to Nasuada's tent, where he met the other two spell casters, whose names were Orus and Broc. Throughout the lesson they demonstrated their magical abilities as novices. It made Menar feel proud of his capabilites, and, once more, he distinguished himself above the others.

He knew that it wasn't solely because of Brother Paul's teachings, but it was the inate talent he possessed. He was sure it had something to do with the feelings that he felt at Cajoi. He assumed that it was the fighter side him or came to him when he focused upon it and needed it. Once the lesson was over, he asked her about his father, though, he couldn't glean anymore from what Chris had told him, except for one thing. "I met him once." Had Menar not seen his statue, he would have asked what he looked like. He could still see the image of the statue in his mind clearly, for he had committed it to memory.

"What was his peronality?" She paused, mentally recounting. "Well, I only worked with him for one assignement, which was to heal some war victems. I traveled there and met him. He partook in the fight, but was unscathed. He didn't have an outgoing peronsality, but he was nice. Extremely humble too. The people he worked on, some of them at least, thanked him for saving their lives twice. Incredible man from what I saw. You remind me of him quite a bit, have a lot of his attributes." Menar was glad he did, for he dreaded what his mother's were.

After that, the days streched out into weeks. He felt himself growing strong, his muscle tone building into actual muscle. He could hold his own in the ring, and no longer had to rely solely upon magic. Aries and other Instructors taught him how to parry, dodge, and attack with exactness. He mastered them more quickly than others, something else he was proud of. He realized, with glee, that he would live up to his name. One day, he hoped, he would not forever be obscured by the shadow of his father's greatness, but remembered for his own deeds.

His abilities in magic branched, spreading into areas he didn't know were possible. He found how to tell the past of objects touched by people, how to make water into a crystillic substance, repair things with magic, and much, much more. He learned how to maintain Connections for more than a brief time, something that he desperately needed practice in, but something that, he discovered, wasn't too difficult. One day, he held an orb of water perfectly still for nearly half an hour. He only quit because he grew bored, not tired. Brother Paul would have been proud.

He communed with Vaxel almost daily, learning that he had, too, learned well and quickly in his training. He too was distinguished within the base, though probably not as distinguished as Menar, for the size of his camp was very large, and there were still those better than he. At Menar's it was smaller than it first seemed. He began to recognize other people and conversed with them. Some, though, still weren't entirely polite.

The day before the end of the month, and their training was over, he stood outside the ring for the final time, the day almost spent. Through the month, they had practiced their swordsmanship more and more often throughout the days. Aries called Menar out of the crowd. Menar hopped the wooden poles he had become so accustomed to jumping and stood beside Aries, who handed him the wooden replica. The crowd seemed anxious, nervous as to who would be chosen. With a tinge of pride, Menar had become used to it. He had only hoped that the enemy would be too afraid to fight him.

"Now," Aries voice boomed, as it usually did when he addressed them. "You all know Menar, here. You all remember his first match, I'd wager. Well, you can stand at ease, because him and Tank will be fighting this match." Menar felt a sense of dread. Despite his refined skill, he was still weary of fighting Tank. He had watched him fight others, and saw him improve dramatically. Like a true champion, he had no need to hone his skills further, since he was the alpha-male. Ever since his defeat though, an obsession possessed him, and it drove him to better himself at an incredible rate. Tank lumbered over the lumber and snatched his sword from Aries, glaring at Menar.

"I've been waiting for this for a long while, Menar. I've pondered over our encounter many times." Silence came from the crowd, as Aries left the ring, watching them with rapt attention. "The only reason you won was because I was too confident and because of underhanded magic tricks on your part. Well, I'll have you know that you'll not be the only one with magical protection in this fight." Gasps of awe came from the crowd. Menar knew better, though. There was no possible way he could develop his Connection so quickly. That took so long. Menar remembered well the hours over the years spent when he was small trying to harness it just right, and he still didn't have it fully under his control unless honest need and concentration took him.

"You will encounter magical attacks from the Heartless, have you not learned? Call it underhanded if you will, but, in a real battle, you wouldn't have the oppritunity to fight me again. You would be decaying in the ground." He scowled, dark lines in his face appearing. _He's got something enchanted, then. It's the only possible way. I wonder how he came into possession of it? _"On my mark, touch swords." Menar extended his. Tank smiled wickedly and tapped his. The gentle way he did it unsettled Menar. _He's got an ace up his sleeve. I'd do well to figure out what it is before the battle carried on for too long. "_Three..."He looked down at his sword. It wouldn't do any good to try and sense magic within that, because there already was, and nothing new had happened with it whenever others fought. "Two." _It has to be on his person then. _"One..." Menar decided not to press his mind immediately towards him, so he wouldn't be destracted when Tank attacked. "Fight!"

Everyone was silent, watching the two old rivals commence fighting the final, defining grudge match. He backstepped quickly, expecting an attack. _Whoever wins will assert themselves as the best. _He raised his sword, prepared to parry. However, Tank surprised him by beginning to circle. Menar did so as well, not letting his guard down. He stepped evenly, faintly focusing on his footwork, but not making himself distracted by it. He learned quickly that his was universally the time when each opponent sized each other up for weaknessess. A misstep or moment of distraction could be the sole factor of vitory or defeat.

Careful to keep his pace and footwork stable, he pushed his mind outwards, something that Nasuda had taught him, and tried to sense any magic on his being. He had to be quick, or Tank would see that he was not fully aware of his surroundings. He almost immediately detected a magical esscence on Tank's entire being. Now, he just had to find out what the magic's purpose was. Suddenly, Tank attacked. Menar was prepared for it, since he moreso expected it to happen when he was trying to detect the magic.

Tank no longer pulled crushing blows on his inital attacks, but sliced, saving time and not having to throw his shoulders as much. Menar twisted, keeping his sword up and blocking the attacks more directly than when he last fought him. However, it was more difficult than the other matches he was in, because he had to quickly judge where his movement and motions would take Tank's sword. His strategy was to move in the general direction of the attack first, and fine tune when he knew more or less where the blow would land, all in a fraction of a second. At the end of his improvised combination, he, as Menar expected, once again gave a crushing blow. Menar had previously noted to dodge this while Tank had put all his effort into it, and he did so then.

He ducked, Tank's sword swooping across his head as he jabbed at his gut. He missed. Acting instictively, he pushed off the ground and rammed Tank in his stomach, sending him flying backwards. He turned the fall into a backwards roll, reminding Menar of the move Brother Paul did at Cajoi. He ran at him, sword raised to strike. However, Tank brought his sword slicing horizontally. Menar dove over him, cursing himself for leaving his legs unprotected.

He rolled as Tank had done and turned. Seeing that Menar was already in a defensive position, Tank decided against rushing him and rose. He pointed his sword at him. "You got lucky, there." He didn't seem worried in the least. There was definately something wrong. Menar melted, then froze the snow he was standing on to the soles of his feet. "Lucky? You were lucky that I missed with that jab there." He learned that goading his opponent, also, was a good way to distract them. Mental warefare as well as physical was a powerful combination. He took a small moment of time to be angry with himself for missing when he should have won then and there. Then, Menar ran to him. He had no intention of attacking. As he came nearer, Tank eyed him, deciding which part to lash out at.

Menar assumed that he learned how to counter these kinds of attacks, since this was how he was hit. Menar learnedthat he was the only one who had even hit him before, so naturally he would want to be defended against that attack. He was right. He swung his sword diagonally before Menar could attack, if that had been his goal. He found that matches were quickly won by those who both took the offensive. He brought his sword up, gritting his teeth as he took the blow head on, his body running opposite of the direction the sword was, his momentum working against him.

His sword flew out of his hand at the impact. He ran past him turning around and panting, sweat on his brow. He growled to himself. Tank turned, stumbling over the ice the froze him in place. Startled, he fell to his knees. One of his legs broke free. Though immobilized, Menar's only chance at defeating him in that position without his sword was if he disarmed him. He couldn't do that now, because he wasn't bound entirely in place, giving him more coverage. Menar started to sprint to his sword.

With a roar of effort, Tank broke free and swung his sword wildly at Menar, blocking his path to the sword. He sliced at Menar, who backstepped the torrent of blows that came at him. Once he had backed away, Tank grabbed his sword, not allowing him to Manifest again and retreive it. _Now, I have no choice but to use magic. _Tank laughed. "Now, we shall test our mettle. Blade against magic, eh?" He roared and charged. Suddenly, time moved very slowly. He called upon the feelings that helped him fight before. He found it intreguing, for he had practiced with Nasuda's meditations refining this to a mechanism where he could use it when he needed. He felt himself immersed in his magical Connection.

He Manifested behind Tank, but, not to his surprise, was what Tank expected. He spun around, swinging his left blade and jabbed over his shoulder with his right. Menar caught his left wrist and jerked his head aside before the other blade touched him. He thrust himself to the right, bending Tank's arm to it's limit. So he wouldn't turn around be the force of the pull, he placed himself back-to-back with Tank. He shouted out in pain, and bent backwards to alleviate the strain on his arm. Menar reached up and slid his arm around his throat, and pulled him over his own back in a glorious manuever.

Even he was surprise what happened in fights when he felt like this. It was exhilerating, euphoric, and addicting. He loved this feeling, that felt like power, supiroriority. Tank fell on his face, on of the swords beside him. Menar grasped the his and drug it over his back. It rolled over him harmlessly. Furious, but dazed, Tank tried to grab Menar's foot, but he side stepped him. He tried to tap him on the head, but it went sideways. Suddenly, he understood. _One of the magic users is helping him! It isn't an enchantment, he's funneling the magic. _Tank began to get up as something flashed in his peripheral vision. He rolled, narrowly missing Orus.

He had tried to grab him and hold him for Tank. Menar pointed his sword at the both of them. "Are you alright?" Ormus asked Tank. He nodded, staring at Menar with vehemenant hatred. _What's going on? _Tank looked at Aries, expecting him to intervene. His mouth gaped open. There was Remus and Nasuda beside Aries, watching him. _This was planned. _The trainigng sword in Menar's hand jerked and wrested free. It flew into Orus's hand. He cursed. From his magic lessons with him, he found he wasn't very good at Connecting with inanimate objects, as Orus and Broc were.

Tank rushed Menar as Orus disappeared. Air whoosed behind him. Menar turned and swiped his legs out from under him. When he had finished his 180, he rolled backwards, pushing his weight upwards with all his might so that his feet propelled towards Tank. They connected with his chest. Menar pulled himself upright, surprised as anyone else of his hand-to-hand skills, as Tank flew back and Ormus rose to his feet. Menar sent a gust of air at Ormus as he advanced to him. Orus blocked it, but missed Menar's coming. Menar punched him in the stomach, and wrestled the sword away from him. He cracked the sword across his head, immobilizing him for the rest of the fight.

"Now, his magic will be no more, and I can finally end this." Menar said. The fiercness of his voice alarmed Menar. He could feel himself entirely in possession of the feeling, indulging in the power and control. Menar turned. Tank was still getting up, trying to catch his breath. Menar raised his sword. Tank looked at him, fear and loathing clear upon his face. _Hmm..._ Menar thought. _Afraid of me? Good. That's good. _He laughed outwardly. Tank caught his second wind and swiped at Menar. Menar parried easily, but was caught off-guard as he was kicked with all of Tank's weight. Menar staggered back into the fence as Tank pushed himself on him, abandoning his sword, barraging Menar with vengeful blows.

Each one that struck him sent stars exploding. Unconciousness threatened to take him, when he felt himself taken completely by the feeling. As at Cajoi, he had no control over what happened next. The earth below him was as hard as Tank's blows, both hitting his head. Suddenly, Tank was jerked off. A faint thought crossed Menar. _Did I lose? Did they pull him off? _He rose slowly, seeing no one around Tank. Actually, he couldn't see anyone other than Tank. Blood trickled down his head and he tasted it. His mind went to Nasuda's lessons on anatomy. _Blood is water, _was all that Menar could think of. The thought consumed him as Tank ran at him.

Menar lifted his hand, feeling the pulsing beat of Tank's racing blood. He pulled it, twisted it to his Will. Tank slowed to a jerky stop, still trying to reach Menar. He groaned and grunted with effort. Menar watched him fall to his knees before him, his sword still raised in a desperated attempt to hit him. Tank looked up at Menar, fear and desperation now upon his face. The sword fell out of his hand. _I can stop now, get the sword, and get him. _Menar didn't want to though. He struggled to stop, but his urge to maintain the spell overtook him.

Suddenly, he was delt a mental blow, stopping his flow of magic and forcing him to concentrate upon putting up barriers around his mind. This, too, Nasuda had shown him, containing his mind and thoughts. Menar was unphased. He picked up the sword that Tank dropped and tapped him on the head, Orus's magic no more. "Dead." He whispered. The feeling Menar felt subsided and faded once again into the pits of his mind, hiding in the dark. There were no cheers, as Menar had expected, but absolute silence. Tank, still on the floor, tried to get to his feet, but fell again to his knees. Aries entered the ring.

"Uh, that was...good, Menar. Very good. Once again, you have proven yourself in this ring. I believe you are our first undefeated." He said quietly. "Here, Tank, let me-" "No!" he roared, swiping at them feebly. He stood, then the rage that burned within him exploded and he charged Menar again. Aries lept inbetween them and held him back. "Tank you lost! Go!" But in his frenzy, his senses were intangible. Suddenly, he fell to the ground. "Extricate him from the field, someone. He can rest now." Nasuda spoke. Menar assumed that she had put him to sleep.

She carefully lifted herself into the ring, with some help from Remus as he followed after her. Aries spoke once more. "You three, carry him." Three people came out of the crowd, hesitating before touching him, then hauled him away. "This was truely the best fight I have seen here." Menar began to regan his senses, losing them temporarily after he called upon his feeling. "Why were there two?" Menar wasn't angry, but he probably would be if he would have lost. "Because I am here to test your abilities, and I can't do that with just one person. No, you're too good for that." Remus spoke now, "Menar, that was truely amazing. I have seen many wars, many fights, but what you did there, I have not seen in the most advanced soldiers. I must know, how did you do that?"

Everyone stared at him. He didn't feel uncomfortable, as he normally would. His victory made himself feel above their stares, above everyone. When he didn't speak, Nasuda took his turn. "It is his talent. We were right in what we heard." She paused. "You really are your father's son, Menar. I never have seen anyone fight like that." Remus grunted. "Nor I. You'll make a great soldier." Menar smiled.

"Erm, yes. Now, tell everyone your name." Aries resumed in his boisterous voice. Menar's grin broadened. "Menar Redfield." He said, though he was sure that everyone knew. "Good fight. For once, I don't think I have any suggestions for improvement." He chuckled. "You may go. Wonderful, Menar. Just wonderful." He left, feeling Remus's and Nasuda's presence behind him. When they were a distance aways from the training ring, Remus placed a hand on Menar's shoulder Nasuda and him both walked in front of him.

"Menar, what in the hell were you doing?" Nasuda's voice quavered with anger. It surprised Menar, for he had not ever heard her angry before, not even when Broc had spilled ink on her in one of their lessons. "You were about to kill him!" Menar's brow rose. "I don't see how. I wasn't meaning to." "Well, none the less I had to stop you. What you did was inexcusable!" She stopped. "However, it was brilliant. I never imagined anyone of my students, preveous and present, would have used a spell such as that. If you use that in battle, you will be...you'll do well."

Menar swelled at the pride. "Yes," breathed Remus. "Menar, you are a wonderful soldier, but you must know when and where to use certain types of magic." Menar frowned. "Well, I was being attacked! In a real battle, I wouldn't hesitate to kill my opponent." He twinged inside. He knew that wasn't true. This fight was something different than an actual one. "But you were on your way to killing him! Why didn't you stop?" He paused, not sure how to respond. Then, he just said it plainly. "The feeling that I had, I realized just now that it's not just something I possess, but it feels like something else within me, physical almost. It's like I have two personalities. When I'm fighting, that persona takes over and I lose all control. I felt Nasuda's mind within mine. Maybe she sensed it."

She frowed, her eyes softening. He found that her eyes, though useless, were still as animated as if they were normal. "Yes, I did. I've come to understand your mind, but," she stopped. "It did feel different. I thought it was just because you were feeling the emotional effects of fighting, but it felt alien, however it was clear. You wanted him to suffer, and suffer he did. That isn't like you." Menar shook his head as silence consumed the moment. "I know, I know, and I honestly didn't mean to. I tried to resist the urge, but I couldn't. I did want to hurt him then, but not anymore."

They looked at him, though as not sure to be satisifiyed or not. "Well," said Nasuda. "As I told you when we first met, if you use your powers in a way I disapprove, I will bring a reckoning. I don't want you using magic like that against your comrades, or I will find you whever you are and punish you. You are too powerful to be unmonitered, Menar." Remus inclined his head. "Aye, I will definately have constant updates on you. Be weary, Menar, for a wrong move will not behoove you." Menar nodded, then left for his tent.

Chris wasn't there, presumably still at the training ring. Menar slipped under his covers. _All the better. Now I won't have to explain what I don't know. _He placed himself in a magical slumber, not wanting to be bothered by Chris's questions of the battle when he entered. The next thing he knew, he was staring at the top of his tent. It was the next day, of that he was sure, for his spell would wake him up when he needed to. _I've got to prepare for the Graduation Ceremony. _He roused himself out of bed and left the tent to the Rec Center, where it would be held. Chris had already left.

As Menar headed for the Rec Center, he didn't see anyone. He began jogging to it, worried that it may have already started, and his spell perhaps went awry. It was a large tent, about twice the size as the cafeteria. When he opened the flap, he found all of the camp members, which he judged to be around a thousand, sitting in chairs in front of a platfrom. On the platform stood a elaborately decorated podium.

It's careful, elegant structure made him wonder if the creator had intented it for sermons. He was curious how the crafter would have felt of it's use now. Menar sat down in the back row. When people had dectected the chill from outside or, as for the ones near him, saw him, they either smiled or greeted him. He returned in politeness. He wasn't a very large socialite, but and he was grateful that they hadn't approached him with idea of friendship. It wasn't that he was as anti-social as Chris, it was just that he selected his friends carefully, and, as the years of childhood passed, he found it increasingly difficult to trust people, for they had formed their own ideals and realities. Besides, Vaxel was the only friend he had needed.

Almost a quarter of a hour streched by when Remus came up to the podium. There wasn't much talking or commotion, but Remus still waited for silence. When it was nearly attained, only then did he speak. "Listen, everyone. Today is a great day, for on this day, you will become soldiers. Not just any soldiers, in fact, but members of the Elite." Whoops and cheers erupted from everyone, making Remus smile and pause. Menar clapped, but held his composure. "Now, remember all of your training in whatever venture you will undertake. In some cases, it will mean your life. Now, with formalities aside, I will reveal all of your positions among the Elite."

Time passed, and people came and exited the stage as Remus congratulated them in their positions. _Since the Elite are under the King's control, and they were his soldiers, we have royal title now._ He smirked inwardly. _I doubt I'll still have the advantages of nobility, but I think I'll manage without. _Though aspiration was not a trait he possessed, he found the stumbling upon this fact enthralling. It gave him a new perspective, and he wondered if he wanted more out of life than to just live simply. _At the rate I'm going, that will never be possible. _

A sudden silence brought him out of his thoughts, Remus's voice disappearing alarming him. _He forgot me. _Menar knew this wasn't true, though the worry still ate at him. "You all know that the most profiecent, promising trainee here is awarded a custom blade, one that will never dull or break, forged by the dwarves themselves." His eyes scanned the crowd. On the contrary, Menar had not known that. Now that he did, he could practically feel the tension and desire in the air. "We all know who that is. Menar, get up here."

He could feel the air of hope dissipate, though he couldn't help but smile. It wasn't that it surprised him, but the sudden recognition did catch him unaware. Remus's eyes still scanned the crowd, searching for him. Menar would have Manifested up there, to save himself and the others time. However, the long walk ahead of him was one of pride, pride that he found and discovered was hard to reliquish or pass.

He arose, all the eyes in the room following him as he walked up to the platform. He looked into Remus's blue eyes as he walked up to the platform. They stared at him as a proud father would a son. He nodded at him, and Menar extended the same courtesy. He walked up the side steps and waited for Remus to hand him the sword. "Here you are. I would train with this, for it is different than the light wooden swords you are so accustomed to swinging, but it is a marvelous sword nonetheless."

Menar took that and a belt that Remus removed from his waist. He knew that the sword belt wasn't his own, for it was had a new, sleek, and polished look to it. The act was more symbolic than anything else. When he handed it to him he whispered. "I can remember a time when you flinched at the touch of a sword. No problem now, eh?" Menar supressed a laugh, giddy. Speaking more openly, he said. "Do you have any words, Menar?" He paused, considering. _I can't seem arrogent and proud. However, _he conceded. _This is a proud moment. I don't think anyone could, or would, blame me. _He turned to the masses.

"Everyone, I appreciate the oppritunity to train alongside you and learn. Without you all, I wouldn't have developed skills nessicary that I will need to survive in the world I enter as I leave here, as have we all." His eyes rested on Chris, whose face held a geniune smile, something that Menar had rarely seen. "I made friends here, some which I will never forget, some which I will meet again, and some that I shall see in the next life. I will remember you, as you will remember me. If not from this place, from my deeds. I say this one last time, but I'm sure strangers in the future will walk up to you and tell you my name, for my name _is_ Menar Redfield."

Everyone clapped, and the more boisterous whooped. Menar was pleased with his speech. _I speak well under pressure, or when I'm serious about something. Hmm. _He couldn't imagine having to address this many people for a project that he was to present, like at the Sanctuary. He normally fumbled on those words. Now, he realized how much he had changed. Moreso with his personality than his actual skills. "Here you are, Menar." Remus handed him the sword, one palm flat against the blade, the other one on the hilt. Menar took it. "And I," he heard Nasuda's voice say. She approached him, coming from the steps which he came. "Always give my most talented pupil a gift. I give this now to you." She extended her hand and gave him a small scroll.

"Use this well and for good. I expect it." She lowered her voice so that only he could hear. "I mean it, Menar. Knowledge is power, but power can corrupt. You have more than any person I have yet trained, and I will not have your good nature tainted by evil." The intensity of her voice startled Menar. "Of course." She walked away, so normally that you wouldn't have been able to tell her blindness if you had not yet known.

"Menar, you are going to become a soldier, of that I'm sure you had not doubt." Menar did not. He felt a tinge of forboding, though, at the blood he was to shed and spill. It chilled him, and, at the same time, excited him. Remus gestured him with the same gesture Aries used to show people out of the ring. In his drunken joy, Menar bowed, something that he wasn't sure if he was supposed to do, and had only done to Brother Paul, but Remus bowed in turn.

Menar Manifested in the empty seat beside Chris. He was glad that he was sitting more or less by himself, so that no one would want to see and touch his blade. Chris turned his head and smiled at him. "We're in the thick of it now, huh? Both of us soldiers. They'll probably put us in the same platoon." Menar nodded. He felt guilty, though, for he felt like he was replacing his best friend, Vaxel, with a new one. Menar vowed to see him soon. He couldn't wait to see all his old friends again, as well as endure the future with his new ones.


	11. Chapter 11: Dodging Death

_**Chapter 11**_

_Dodging Death_

The base bustled with unusual activity. Ordinarily, it wold seem lethargic and rendered near immobile by the piercing cold. Though abnormally high cloud coverage blanketed the Earth in a dismal gray haze, and the snow collected and redoubled all light.

The establishment gleamed unequicvically bright against all else, highlighting life against the chilly desolation of the dark mountain range. For a brief spell, it had stopped snowing, but restarted itself soon after. It seemed as though Fort Hood never recieved a respite from on endless barrage of gently falling snow that, by miracle that escaped Menar's comprehension, never devoured the facility.

Menar blinked as the snowflakes planted what would be chilling kisses on his bare face. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he ambled his way around an element of his training, which would be adapting to the elements physically. Since he _had _learned the Insolation spell during his training, he did not consider it a breach of his integrity. Nevertheless, he knew Brother Paul would agree that he didn't attain the fullness of his training.

The large group around him, gathered in a loose platton formation, and did not seem to mind the cold. They had been outside now for nearly thirty minutes. Now, even Chris, not native to his climate, beared it impassively.

Through the post-celebration, there was utter chaos. People whom he did not know approached him and begged to see his sword. Menar politely declined, for he was reluctant to let anyone but him touch his sword, nor did he consider it appropriate to endorse an instrument of death with uncontained enthusiasm.

His hand slid down to the hilt of it on his belt. "_It is a personal trophy and tool. A symbol of my profeciency." _Menar glanced down at it. The minimal light still gleamed off of it brightly, showing off the leafy vines that wrapped around the gold colored hilt. _"Though, it is a beautiful one." _He was aware now that Chris had been watching him. "Have you given any thought to it's name?" Menar looked into Chris's staring blue eyes.

"No. I've yet to decide a name for it. It's a beautiful sword, deathly so. I want it to be just right." Chris nodded, smiling faintly. "You talk about it as though it were a woman. Most soldiers do." He turned his attention to the mountain range pensively. Menar looked at him, unsettled by his unusal quietness.

Whenever Vaxel was like this, something was bugging him. He decided to ask Chris if this was the same case with him. Like Vaxel, Chris was not the quiet type, but definately not a socialist. It was strange to see them in similar comparison. "So, what are you thinking about, Chris?" An overly rambunctious pair bumped into Chris suddenly.

He wondered how Chris would react to the interuption. He suddenly hoped that Chris wouldn't try to start a fight with them before they had even left, for he had been in two since he was here, though Menar had not seen it in person. The one who bumped into him muttered an apology as he rushed off to harvest revenge. Chris snorted. "He reminds me of my brother. " His back was turned, still staring after the other two as they fought playfully.

He didn't respond to Menar, so he repeated his question. Chris turned then. "Why are you here?" Menar felt as if his answer was important, so he chose his words carefully. After a moment of thought, Menar bit his lip. "Because I was chosen. Whether I like it or not, I'm good at fighting." Menar hesitated. Chris paused further, sensing the hesitation. "I feel secure enough to tell you this. I feel that, in my Godfather's part, it was favored prejeduce."

Chris looked disgusted and turned his head. Menar silently berated himself. Menar bit his lip again. "I was thinking of my past, and, also, my future. You only know me from here, Menar, but before this, I've been training. For most of my life really." You know a lot of aristocratic families bribe their way into presitge. My family-" He stopped aburptly, his attention snapping to an officer garbed in heavy clothing.

The platoon came to attention, but the scraggly man waved them and declined his head. "You all should be celebrating." Roars and whoops reverberated through the air, amplifying deafiningly. The man smiled. "That's more like it. Believe me you'll come to enjoy every good moment you can, because the road ahead will be difficult." "Not for me! And arrogant young man near the back shouted. The man in front of them, as well as most everyone else, burst into jubulant laughter.

Everyone simmered down back into relative quiet, with the wind whistling whimsfully. "Since you guys are inexperienced there will be a few verterans to accompany you and have already been intergrated among you. This mission, while tactfully simple, is vital, just like any mission you would conduct."

He looked at thim, another grin streching his wild beard and bearing itself upon his blemished face. "Why so somber? You all are now a part of the best! You thrived in adversity and conquered!" Menar's companions cheered again. He clapped and smiled, moved by the words of praise, but he still held his reserve.

He looked over at Chris. He was relieved to see him back to his old self, smiling and drinking in the pleasures of the world without hidden contempt. Menar did not wish to complicate his friendship with him with harder details of a dark past, however curious he might be; he liked Chris for the way that he was.

"Well, I wish you all luck, because I don't think we shall meet again. So, allow me to introduce you to the one who will be in charge of this mission." He nodded to them and departed their company without looking back.

A single figure broke ranks and walked to the center of the formation. Menar wondered how many people he would meet just to part with and never see again. He thought of Vaxel suddenly. "_No, we will meet again. Heck, I've spent most of my life with him."_ He thought. Though, he couldn't help but wonder as home sickness settled in the pit of his stomach.

The man stopped and turned in an about-face. His movement seemed practiced and reeked of military precision. His cold, green stare penetrated them, making people shudder and freeze in ways the blow of the wind and the chill of the snow could not.

His gaze lingered on Menar. Menar saw it flicker to his sword. A smale flashed across his lips so quickly, Menar thought he had imagined it. "My name," he dragged, "Is Alexander Kovolski Westfall. To you, my name is sir or Captain Westfall."

"I am not one for speeches, so I'll just say this. I don't deal well with ignorance. I'm not unfriendly, but I am blunt, so I believe that I owe you all a fair warning. We we will work together and strive for proficency, but I implore you not to," he smiled, "get on my bad side. That being said, you have ten minutes to collect your belongings and meet back here."

He broke into a smile, but stood there saying nothing more. Others just looked around, wondering if they were dismissed. The man surveyed them and sighed. "Nine minutes and forty five seconds." Then, everyone, except for Menar, retreated in a frantic scramble.

Westfall stared at Menar yet again. "_Should I say something?" _Menar wondered. _"No. If he really is blunt, then he will say something first if it arouses him."_ Menar looked him in the eye assertively, but careful not to appear offensive with a misconstrueable look.

(Good time to give complete description)After a while, the man named Alexander finally spoke. "Don't you have supplies to attain, Menar?" Menar was taken aback that he knew his name, but was careful not to change his expression. "You know me." He stated more than asked. "Aye." Alexander nodded. "Then you likely know that I departed Cajoi with nothing." Alexander cocked his head. "Hmm. You're right. Don't you want some time to reminice, though?"

"I had a wondeful mentor, Brother Paul. He taught me that all the knowledge we attain in our travels of the world will remain unchanged in our hearts, but the places will change. Even if it remains prefectly preserved, the things we learn and see alter it to a new perspective."

Westfall smiled and stepped closer as a small group of people assumed their positions with bags of luggage. His voice dropped. "You're smart. Then, you should know this. We fight to preserve, for that's all we can do. Aye, I know of you, and I know of your father."

Menar didn't do anything, acutely aware that Alexander was scrutenizing him. "You don't reveal your emotions," he commented. Menar thought for a moment before speaking. "For some reason, I feel it nessicary to," Menar thought lightly, "To tread carefully around you. I know there's a time and a place to do things." More people arrived and Westfall stepped closer. "You need not to worry. I think you and I will get along well enough. Though, my companions may take time. They dislike new recruits. They forgot that they were once ones."

Menar nodded. By now, about half of the people had returned. Alexander observed them all. "Have you fought with the veterns among us?" Menar asked. Alexander paused, only for a moment. "Not all, but I know them all. That is why I caution you now to be wary of them; they are very selective in their associates. In this job, you have to be sometimes."

Menar looked around, searching for those who he should caution himself against. He reasoned they be close together, quite possibly the first to arrive. Alexander seemed to know what he was doing. "Identified them yet?" He asked as a group of people came back, laughing and gallvanting that Menar immediately discarded them as possibilities.

His eyes whipped to a group of men, who seemed to be watching the others, whispering with heavy smiles who seemed different from the others. In a few moments, a couple of them became aware that Menar was watching them, looking at him without glancing off, as if challenging him.

Menar looked into one of their eyes, which seemed to look into him, filling him with images he dared not think of. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked away, wondering how they could be so mysterious just by their presence. Strangely, he strongly did not want to know the answer. He hoped he didn't become like that.

"It's them." He said without any shadow of uncertainty. Alexander said nothing, just paused another moment, then walked back to where he was before as Chris took his place beside Menar. He didn't need confirmation to know that he was right. "So, what'd he want?" Menar shrugged, glancing between Chris's expectant look and at Alexander's figure.

"I'm not sure. I think he just wanted to get to know me better." Chris smirked as a gust of wind whipped and stirred. "Funny, he doesn't seem to be the buddy-buddy type." Menar felt a surge of fondness for Chris, reminding him of Vaxel."That's what worries me."

There were only three people missing from the platoon now. Alexander swept his omniscent gaze across them. "Ten minutes is up." He chimed to himself, snickering and shaking his head. Menar looked around him, noticing there the three spots that were still empty. He could see them, though, together, rushing to come up to the platoon with their bags and sacks, clearly quite a load.

When the tardy three arrived in their spots, Alexander called them, by name, to the front. He looked at each one of them, not moving from his spot. "Hello, children." The three looked at each other, curious at his demeanor. Menar shared it as well. "Hello." They all said. Alexander smiled. "Apparently, you did not learn responsibility and punctuality here. I think you've been standing still too long so that you forgot to move."

"I assume you all took your time so that you wouldn't accidentally leave anything behind in your luggage, correct?" They all nodded in unison, muttering confirmations. "Good. All three of you are assigned luggage detail then. At least now, I know that you will do a good job at that instead of moving, which you will also learn to do while you maintain your personal strengths, which would be," He smiled, "luggage maintence. That primarily entails inventory. You will be responsible for every item, every button, every drawstring, and you will report to me on it before we move out of our operations and you will do it successfully."

The middle of the three groaned, throwing back his head and letting his woe be known. Alexander's soft, placid face suddenly turned hard and fierce. "I'm sorry? Do you believe my judgement is unfair?" He said with all the edge of an authoritarian. The young man shook his head, sighing. "No." "'No' what?" Both Alexander and the boy paused, staring at each other, until the boy slumped his shoulders and bitterly looked down. "No, _sir._" "Then you three may go back into formation. Everyone, we mobilize now. I'm on point."

Those who dropped their bags heaved them on their shoulders then, but not before brushing the cold snow off of it. Chris, Menar noticed, only had a relatively small pack and a hunting knife attached to a leather seath fastened around his right shouilder. "Oh," said Menar. "You're left handed?"

Chris smiled as he too hefted his pack. "Yeah, I'm ambidextrious." He watched as Alexander began walking, others following as they shouldered their packs. "Well, we're about to shove off here." Menar hummed. "Hmm...bigger and better things, huh?" They began walking out of the camp, though Menar knew there was no gate, just a steep path down the mountain. "I suppose." Chris said under his breath.

Menar was shivering now. He had not anticipated that the Insolation spell would consume so much energy. It had been much more simpler to maintain the buffer area of the inside of a tent than it was to oppose the incessant forces of the natural elements freezing wrath.

Wind and biting, numbing cold struck Menar's face like blows. Slightly to his relief, he found that others were unaccustomed to the prolonged direct contact with the tempatures. Menar didn't believe anyone could ever truely be.

"Damn!" murmured Chris for what seemed the millionth time. "It's so cold! We still got a while to travel, too." Menar had tried not to speak so he wouldn't streach his chapped lips. "Until we're there?" said Menar half-interested, half preoccupied with the numbing cold.

Chris nodded his head vigorously, shaking the snow that had collected on his head from the snow that just recently stopped falling. "Yes." Menar tried to slip and be drawn back into his mesmerizing footsteps and crunch of snow under him. Chris''s teeth chattered loudly. "You shouldnshould've been here wehen we trecked up...horrible headwind. Took us nearly a week."

Menar grunted as he stepped his way around an icy stone. "And how much longer until we get off this mountain?" Chris stompped his fet and shook his head. "Damn snow! About a day. I can't wait either." After that last comment, he fell into silence, allowing it to remain unbroken. The others hardly spoke the entire trip as well. They were too consumed by the cold to make small-talk and any meaningful conversation was easily overheard. Menar believe that to be a copeing mechanism of Chris's.

Menar once again fell into the hypnotic rhythm of his steps. He recessed deep within the confines of his mind, so that the wind was nothing but another fact of his mere existance, pushing him slightly and nothing more. All he was reduced to was existing- not feeling.

They stopped only three times that day. Twice to warm themselves around a fire that Menar produced, tired enough as he was. IT was fortunate for him that there were only 18 people, because hec ould not make a fire larger without ensure it's sustainability. Reguardless, it was tolling, especially since he had spent the day trecking down the mountain.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, for it had broken through the cloud coverage, offering them little warmth, Alexander stopped them for camp. Menar broke his trance at the sound of his voice, and he looked about, seeing no truely ideal place to set up camp. Suddenly, with immense dread, he realized he didn't have a tent.

Menar pulled his hands out of his pockets and the pain that stabbed his hands brought him out of his trance in full. He looked around him to see exactly where it was that he stood. Snow burned like molten lava in the dying rays of the sun with a brilliance free of impurities, iridescent and dazzeling.

He took note of several small hills of rock that dotted the landscape, of the pine forest below him that streched out for miles and smoke in the distance, from a hermit's chimney possibly. The hard rocks were plated with icy armor against the artic winds. he heard Alexander's voice vry out again. "Make camp! Food will be made within the hour, so prepare quickly, lest it get cold."

People began to disperse, searching for shelter. Menar realized he had no blankets or cloth. He cursed dully, his mind blackened foul by the incessant cold. Chris must have known what he was thinking. "I'll make us shelter." Chris said. Menar grunted in grateful reply. Suddenly, he noticed Alexander approaching him. "Menar, I need you to do something for me."

Menar looked at him wearily. "And what is it exactly that you would have me do?" A slight breeze stirred Alexander's golden hair. "All I need you to do is maintain another fire." Menar clenched his jaw. "How large and how long do you need it, sir?" "A simple cooking fire, but we don't need it right away. We need to get a mountain goat or two first."

Menar nodded, his ravenous stomach growling at the prospect of food. "I'll go. I can capture them using magic. Even though the tempature isn't as bad as it was, it will freeze the meat rather quickly when you kill them, making the process longer and more energy consuming." Alexander pointed to the same craggy rocks Menar noticed earlier.

"Our best bet of finding them them is up there. I've decided to make camp here primarily because of that. If you're ready, we'll make our leave now." Menar grabbed the pommel of his blade. It was as cold as death. he let go of it's freezing touch. "I'm ready."

Alexander walked ahead; Menar followed him closely. During the trip up to the rocks, which were several meters away, Menar took time to examine Alexander's leather pack. There was a small grinding stone hanging by a leather strip attached to his bag, a curious knife which looked familiar to Menar, and a mass of something coiled in his pack, though he couldn't tell what it was.

"So, Menar, how do you plan to capture the animals?" His voice carried back into the wind. "Presuming that they're there, I guess I'll just trap them in a crevice. " Menar stumbled. He looked back to see if anyone noticed. They were farther from the camp than Menar initally thought.

"Is this the way they took coming up the mountain?" Menar asked. He thought Alexander shook his head, but it was difficult to tell with him bobbing and stomping his way up the mountain. "No. This is a faster path to our objective. We are going to intercept a group of messengers. We'll need to travel fast though."

Menar stumbled again, but this time he fell. "Damn it!" he cursed. Alexander threw back his head and laughed. "You're not very graceful, are you?" "No," Menar said, gritting his teeth. "I'm stepping where you were." Menar began to get up again, but fell back into the cold snow. "Agh! It's the stupid ice." Alexander went back to help Menar up. "Ice?" He scowled.

Suddenly, Alexander fell through the Earth, his eyes wide in shock. Menar dove forward in a rapid reaction and grabbed for his hand, chunks of ice and water slapping his face, stinging with horrible cold. He missed. Alexander pushed against the current of water that rushed against his half submerged body

Menar grabbed for his hand again. This time, he successfully clasped it. Menar pulled in a hurried panic. The ice broke and cracked toward Menar with the added pressure. "Come on!" Menar grunted, effort straining his muscles, adrenaline pumping through him. Alexander gritted his teeth, trying to get up, but his body was pulled under further. " Too much of me is under! I'm slipping." His eyes were wild. "All my years of fighting and I'm done in by this." "No," Menar grunted, but he could feel Alexander being pulled farther and farther under by the second.

The ice cracked again. Steam rose high around them from the water. "Let go." Alexander said. "There's no sense in you going under too. I'll be fine." "No, you'll be dragged down and you'll drown!" Alexander slipped again, his and Menar's hands slipping under the water. The ice-cold water pierced his flesh and sent blazing knives of pain stabbing into every single pore. "Fool! Let me go!" Menar's mind reeled.

If he was going to save him, he had to be in control of himself. Right now though, they were both trapped. Menar beat the ice under him and shifted his body. The ice cracked loudly under him. "Don't let go of me!" Menar said. Then, Menar was submerged. Every orifice that defined him screamed at the piercing cold that punched new ways into his body.

Menar gasped, only to choke on water. His hand clenched Alexander's and his chest tightened painfully. He was swept away with him. Menar opened his eyes. Very little light cut through the ice and sparse snow above, and, as for the bottom, Menar could not tell if there was one. He shut his eyes and felt for his trigger, the mechanism within him that helped him survive through Cajoi and feel inexorible influence in him. He was surprised to discover it wasn't there as his life flashed before him.

His lungs were on fire. He felt his sword belt streching. Oddly, he hoped it wouldn't break. Alexander clenched Menar's hand. Suddenly, Menar jerked and came to a stop. His grip on Alexander slipped. He opened his eyes and grabbed his leg before the current did him away.

He glimpsed that Alexander had his knife into the ice above him, the one that was on his pack. Menar searched his Connection. He tried to clear his thoughts, but all he could think of was cold and ice. He thrust his hand at the ice above him, keeping the other wrapped around his leg. His fingers invaded the ice, causing it to weaken through his magic.

Menar used that to his advantage and pushed his magic to pull the ice down, making a large slab wedge between the bottom, which was not far down at all. He could see that it formed a thick, irregular ramp. Menar jerked on Alexander's leg, forcing the knife free. As they fell back, the knife came back too sliced Menar in the face, making blue stars flash before his eyes. His back pressed against the ice as he pushed himself up the ramp.

He gasped as he opened his eyes, his lungs on fire and his chest tightened to a thick knot. He barely noticed Alexander pull himself up beside him a moment later and flop down. Darkness lined the edge of Menar's vision. He turned his head, seeing the knife thrashing like a fish out of water as the water pushed it ceaselessly against the ice.

Suddenly, Menar felt it important to get the knife before it slipped away. He pushed the blackness out of his sight and grabbed the knife. He lay there, writhing and breathing. "We need to get off of this and move, before it...happens again." Menar groaned and scrambled up, not realizing how weak he was.

He stood, water and blood trickling from his face. Menar pulled his Connection, trying to get the water off both of them, but he couldn't feel the fluidity of waer, just the stiffness of cold. He felt a pressure on his shoulder. Shaking violently, Menar looked over to see Alexander trying to steady him.

Alexander's hair was flat and dripping now, turned dark by the water. "Thank you. You- you saved my life." his teeth chattered, and his lips purple. Menar looked off to the place where the others had made camp. They were rushing about and shouting. Apperantly, they had seen the incident.

"The river curves away from the camp." said Alexander, letting go of Menar. "But it's going to be a dangerous trip up." Menar could see his last vestiges of his strength fail him if he walked up, even at the mere thought of it. "Take," Menar extended his hand, breathing fast and shallow, "Take it." Alexander grabbed his hand without question.

Menar burned the image of the camp in his mind, Willing his desire to it. All he wanted in the world lay with that camp. Menar closed his eyes. His chest compressed and tightened further. In an instant, it was over. Menar opened his eyes as his legs seemed to slam onto the ground, forcing him to his knees.

Menar blacked out, barely feeling through his other senses. When he finally recovered, his back was against a tree, with a cloth wrapped tightly around him. He looked around, his neck feeling fragile. There was a fire going a short ways ahead of him. There were two people tending to it, with branches ripped from one of the sparsely growing trees. It must have taken some effort to make it without magic.

Alexander was sitting by the fire. Menar felt a line of blood trickle down his face. The wound was almost scabbed or frozen shut, though. Menar was too tired to get up to Alexander, but they were close enough to talk. "What about those goats? Looks like we're going without dinner."

Alexander looked at Menar for a moment, then laughed. The laughter turned into a coughing fit. "I think everyone will be fine missing a meal." He paused. "Thank you again, Menar." Menar snorted. "For what?" "For sticking with me and saving my life, against all odds. That really speaks for your character." Menar gave a weak laugh in turn.

"But you said it yourself; you would have been fine." Alexander looked him in the eye. "If you ever need a favor, just ask." Menar pulled his blaket up around him. He felt the knife that wounded him still in his hands. Menar smiled. _'I'll give it to him tomorrow. He won't mind.' _He thought as he slipped into a dreamless, unnatural sleep.

Menar awoke to loud clanks and rustling that sounded like progress. He noticed that the sun had managed to climb a ways into the sky. Menar groaned and streched his stiff limbs, every muscle in his body stiff and sore. He would have tried popping them if he hadn't feared his bones had turned into brittle ice themselves.

Menar arose stiffly, still keeping the blankets around him and clutching the knife. He walked and looked for Alexander, but before he could locate him, he was approached from behind. He turned around to see who it was, expecting it to be Chris. Instead, it was a scraggly, but tall man. His unshaven and hard features intimidated Menar.

He spent a brief moment observing Menar. "Hello. My name is Thomas. Tom for short." He extended his hand. Menar took it in his. Tom gripped it firmly. Menar felt hardened calluses at the base of his fingers. "Menar." Tom nodded. "I hope you're feeling better. We all heard of what you did yesterday, and I would like to thank you. I know Sir Alexander well, fought with him and endured the best and worst."

"All the more a pleasure." Menar said. Tom smiled at him. "No, no. The pleasure's all mine. I know Alexander quite well and we are good friends. You saved his life, and I'd like to teach you some things that might save yours." Menar's brow furrowed in confusion. "Teach me what?" He gestured to Menar's blade.

"Some practical techinques with that sword of yours. I assume you've had training before?" Menar tugged the blanket closer, disliking the fact the he appeared vulnerable. "Not in swords." Tom's eyebrow rose. "Aries, my Instructor, only told us what we did wrong. Not any actual techniques." "Bah!" Tom spat. "That is no way to train. He's liable to get you all killed, really. You have to be taught."

"I didn't expect you not to have training. You must have a killer instinct to have gotten that sword without it. At least now I can show you things proper, instead of having to break sloppy habits." Menar grinned. "I'd be honored. If you don't mind me asking, how many seasoned fighters are here?"

"Five," Tom answered. "Including myself and Alex. Though I don't know the others well, Alexander seems to." Menar looked around him. People milled about, wrapping up the remains of their camp. "Where is he, anyways?" Tom looked about as well. "I think he went to relieve himself, but I don't know. He just comes and goes sometimes." Menar made a face. "Oh." Tom smirked. "Yeah. Well, we'll begin your education sometime after we make camp tonight, eh?" Menar nodded.

Tom nodded to him. "See you later; I've got to finish packing. Shouldn't take long, but Alexander wouldn't smile upon my terring." Menar nodded again. "Good-bye, then and thank you." With that, Thomas left. Menar stared after him for while. Menar shed the blanket and Insolated himself. '_It won't comsume as much of my energy now that we are almost down the mountain _he thought gratefully.

He walked around the encampment, fiddling with the knife, still in his hand from yesterdays catastrophe. He looked down at it. It looked more like a machete, really, with two high-arc spikes and a deeply serrated edge on the front of the blade. Menar noticed there were still traces of his blood on it. Bemused, he touched his scab. He traced it, and it was still oozing slightly, to be two inches long.

Small dried bits of the scab flaked off and blew away in the breeze, cracking his wound a bit more and letting the cool wind sting the newly opened spots. He looked up and saw Alexander walking with Chris. Menar walked past several people working to meet them, and they didn't seem very happy. Perhaps they thought they would get to sleep in after the incident yesterday. Menar shrugged inwardly. Chris was the first of the two to notice Menar. He gestured a greeting, making Alexander look up.

"I believe this is yours." Menar said wryly, handing him the blade. Alexander drew a look of mild surprise and Chris one of curiosity as he looked at the blade. "An ice blade?" Chris assumed. Menar handed him the tool handle first. Alexander took it appreciatively. "Yes. I like to be prepared for all occasions. I would much rather have something and not need it, than need it and not have it. Sometimes, it could cost you your life. Thank you, Menar."

"Of course, and you're right, or it could be thrown back in someone's face, particuarly mine," He joked. Alexander uttered a loose laugh. "If you'll excuse me, please," he said, still chuckling, "I must see to it that we leave soon. I let everyone sleep a bit later than I would so that you might have more time to recover, but we'll have to hustle to catch those messengers."

Alexander seathed the blade somewhere under his flowing overcoat, that mysteriously dried overnight, though Menar had no idea how. He patted Menar on the shoulder and walked by him. Chris ushered Menar to follow him. "He took me away before I had a chance to pack." He explained as Menar followed. "Speaking of which, you never did help me set up my camp." He joked. "Menar almost laughed, completely forgetting that Chris asked him to.

"Sorry about that." Menar saw where Chris had made camp. A hole was burrowed into the snow around a tree, and a large cloth lay in the hole. "Did that cloth cover the hole?" Chris nodded, walking to the other side of the pine and untied the knot that attached it to the tree. "Yeah, you wouldn't believe how warm it gets. I slept on my luggage though to keep off of the ground." Menar looked down the two foot hole to see Chris's bag splayed on the floor.

"So you did." Menar adjusted the blanket that he was holding. Chris rolled up his own material and jumped down the hole to his pack and began stuffing it inside. "So, what was he talking about with you." CHris finished stuffing the bag with a grunt and clambered out of the hole. "He asked me not to tell you." Meanr was a bit hurt that Chris wouldn't tell him, but said nothing of it.

Chris walked to a point where people in the platoon were gathering to leave. "Essentially though, he was wanting to know if there was any way to pay you back. He is intent upon it. I think he has a fascination for you now." It was relatively quiet and still, as opposed to yesterday's formation. "I never was one to draw attention to myself. I"m finding it hard to avoid it now." Menar said. Chris nodded, though Menar couldn't tell within himself if it was even something he wanted to avoid. Part of him liked the admiration, relished it.

Chris poppped his kuckles, reminding Menar how sore that he was. "I've noticed that about you myself, Menar. Makes me glad that I got to know you first." Menar smiled. "Before this, there wasn't much to know. What about you?" Menar aksed, recalling Chris's unfinished tale.

He smirked in a self-mocking way. "Me? I don't have a story." Menar frowned. "But I thought you said you were training for this." Chris kicked some snow. '_Wow,' _Menar thought. "_He's really sensitive about this.' _ "Yeah, I know. I'm only here for my family's sake. I come from a family of farmers."

He paused. "Every year, we harvested our crops and did well for ourselves. It was looking good, and I would have been a ranch-hand until my folks passed and I took the place over, since I showed the most care for it out of the bunch of my brothers and sisters. I love farming. Want to marry, settle, and live my life in peace, like every good, God-fearing man."

"Then, floods from the Plutoma River expanded more and more every year." "How?" asked Menar. His attention was drawn away to someone who stumbled with some luggage as they came up to the platoon, but he caught himself. It was one of the people who were tardy yesterday, carring an armful of belongings. Chris shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Anyways, less and less of our land would be usable through the seasons. If you ask me, though, I think the government has something to do with it. Making ships or another port or something. Reguardless, the river has not done this before until about 5 years back and it's getting worse."

"We had already sold what surplus we had, so, to compensate, we had to cut into our own food. Each year we had less and less, paying taxes for land we never even used." He kicked the ground harder. Alexader's voice sounded. "Let's move out everyone." Menar couldn't see him through the throng of people, though.

" Someone tugged the blanket out of Menar's hand. It was the person who stumbled. "He's been riding my case. Wish the bastard would have drowned." Menar smiled, amused. "Thank you." Menar said, pretending not to hear the comment, but his smile quickly turned to evanescence. Everyone now began walking the mountain's decline. Menar lumbered after Chris, who had begun walking.

"Well, why didn't your family sell the land?" Menar asked Chris, looking at him with genuine concern. He snorted, "We tried, but all land sales have to be run through the regional Council. We're in the Azercourt district and you know why that is the most wealthy and 'powerful' district?" He laughed mockingly, causing nearby soldier's heads to turn.

"Why?" Menar humored. "Because," Chris said with venom, "The government owns everything. Through taxes, of course." Menar frowned, rubbing his eyes. The brightness of the snow was getting to him. "If your family can't pay, then the Council takes over our property. That's likely why they don't want us to sell it to another, more wealthy family. So, with us being a large, middle-class family, we all had to get jobs, save for the 3 of my youngest brothers."

"Me and my older two brothers had to become soldiers. It's the only job rural people with no credentials or qualifications could get. Well, I was really good with a sword. And a bow," He added, "Because I hunt. That got someone's attention, but being in the Elite, you only got paid twice a year."

Menar hadn't even considered payment. "At least everything is paid for while we're in service." Chris pierced Menar with a look. He decided then that it was probably best to let Chris keep talking uninterruppted. "Yeah, but I don't want this. I want a life of my own, a family of my own. I love mine, but..."

Chris was quiet for awhile. He stared at the ground and tredded it silently. His face softened, and for the first time, Menar realized how tense he always seemed to be. He registered to Menar as a strong, even more complex person. "I want to live my life before I lose it, and I want to share it with someone I love."

"By the way," he dragged his words, "that's why we only get paid twice a year, but get a larger salery than the King's Army. We have a tendancy to die more, because we're always in combat." He looked at Menar intensely. "If I die, we won't have enough money to save our farm. Generations of my family grew up there. I'm not just fighting for my life, I'm fighting for my entire families."

Menar held his gaze. "You have my sympathies." After a moment, Menar felt like he should say more. "Look, I like you. OUtside of Vaxel, you're the only friend I ever bothered to make. Vaxel and I are like family." Menar smiled at Chris, feeling another burst of fondness for him. " I never had a family. I"ve had to judge people's character. Something just clicks with you."

Menar looked down the hill, at the trees at the base of the mountain. Most of them were pines. "I won't let anything happen to you. In the case something does, I'll make sure your family is taken care of." Menar didn't bother to consider how, nor did Chris. "Thanks, but I couldn't ask that of you." Menar shook his head. "You didn't."

Chris smiled. Menar didn't expound on it. _Chris, _he reasoned, _probably din't want to feel like he is incapable of providing for his family. Even if that happens in one way or another, it doesn't make him any less than he is. _Menar glanced over at Chris with newfound respect.

After a few hours, they stood on the edge of the forest, but not for long. Alexander was the first to march into the forest. "I'm surprised. I thought you guys would have been glad to get out of Fort Hood an off of the mountain." Everybody was moving again, if somewhat at a more brisk pace. Chris especially seemed eager to enter the woods.

It wasn't long after they had entered before they stopped. Menar was grateful, though, that there was no more snow under his feet. Alexander stopped and turned to face everyone. "We are going to find food now." A loud roar erupted as many people in the platoon yelled, even Tom.

Alexander then took someone and slipped into the woods. Menar wasn't surprised that he didn't ask himself to go with him. Many people began to lay on the dead pine needles that covered most of the forest floor. Chris sighed and sat with his back against the rough bark of a pine tree. "Wish it was warmer; I hate the cold." He looked up at Menar. "Can't you heal cuts?" Menar hadn't considered doing that.

"Depends. I couldn't if it cut into organs, but I can repair skin tissue, yes." Menar traced the wound once more. As he ran the length of it with his finger, the skin cracked as the scab shed and the skin mended. When it was healed, Menar traced the new flesh, perfect and scarless, but something still felt flawed. "Is there something wrong with my face?"

Chris laughed loudly. "It's not too different than before you got that cut. You really shouldn't leave yourself open for insults like that, man." Menar dropped his hand. "I was afraid that I did the spell wrong." Chris didn't stop staring at Menar. "Now that you mention it..." Menar was expecting an insult, thinking he couldn't resist another wisecrack.

"Has your eyebrow always been like that?" Menar felt his left eyebrow, dread welling in him. "There's a part of your eyebrow that's cut." MEnar felt it. He was right. He hoped the hair would grow back, and that the folicles weren't damaged to the point that it wouldn't.

He sighed. "Well, it's a small price to pay for my life." However, Menar felt twinges of apprehension. He wondered the full extent of the damage. Suddenly, his thoughts flashed to Ulrik. _What if I look like him? Oh, God._ Menar felt his stomach drop. Sickness gripped him and he felt the flexes of regurgitation. He clenched his jaw and surpressed the urge before Chris saw.

"Hey, you should probably help Alexander hunt. Afterall, you have the most experience of all of us here, Chris." Chris smiled and furrowed his brow. "If I didn't know better" he grunted as he got up, moving his hands quickly up the tree, remind Menar of a squirrel. "I'd say you were trying to get rid of me. But you're proably right. I can show them a thing or two about hunting." "And I will learn something about fighting."

"Fighting? You're not going to massacre the camp while I'm gone, are you?" That particular comment turned the heads of some of the yo9unger cadets. Menar felt slight embarassment at the attention. "No, I'm going to get some pointers from Thomas over there." Menar pointed to the tall figure, leaning against one of the trees, talking to another soldier. Chris stared at him a moment.

When Menar turned back to face Chris, he was gone. Midly surprised and curious as to how he could have disappeared so fast and so quietly. The slight wind had been louder than he had. Menar peered around the gently swaying trees, trying to catch a glimpse of him dashing off to find Alexander, but Menar could not see him. Menar shrugged his shoulders and turned to approach Thomas.

Menar traversed the short distance to him, scrutinizing and analyzing his features unlike when he first awoke and his eyes had not adjusted to the brightness of the reflecting snow. Thomas had red hair that seemed to catch fire and make him appear fierce. His face did not differ from the impression of his hair and beard. His eyes were sunken and hollow, tired, but always searching. His complexion was weathered, having faced many hardships. The only thing about him that seemed pure and soft was his eyes. Though they looked as though they seen many atrocities, they had a hidden quality that made Menar believe he was good natured.

He stopped short of him, waiting to be noticed. It didn't take Thomas long to see Menar. He pushed off of the tree and walked up to Mnear, licking his chapped lips and giving him a jerky nod of acknowledgement. "Did you want to speak with me, Menar? Perhaps start the lessons I so promised you?" Menar grinne, grateful that he did not have to ask and appear overly eager.

"That would be appreciated." Thomas gestured off into the woods. "Then let's march this way then. That way, we won't be in the way of these people." Menar glanced about him. When they were scattered, they did not seem as large a force. Menar put aside that fact and agreed with Thomas, not wishing for anyone to get accidentally get hurt.

Menar followed him, the wieght of his sword becoming more apparent as his eagerness mounted. Menar felt butterflies in his stomach as he kicked up some of the pine needles. Suddenly, Thomas stopped and turned, his sword flashing as it sliced toward Menar. He barely sidestepped it as it whizzed by him. Menar's heart skipped a beat as adrenaline shot through him. "What are you doing? You almost hit me!"

Thomas nodded, hunched over with his sword pointed. "Tip number one, my young friend, always expect an attack." His blue eyes held a fire, burning within him to his core. Menar placed his hand onto his sword's hilt, cold as ice. _This man is insane_ Menar thought. He took a step back from him. "But these swords will cut us to bloody ribbons!" Menar protested wildly. "Hm. Hopefully that will give you and I an incentive not to get hit then." Menar drew his sword, quite as it scraped it's way out of it's leather seath.

Menar definately felt the excess wieght of it compared to the wooden sword, but it was not as heavy as he would have imagined a regular sword. Menar briefly admired the reflective quality of the blade before he snapped his attention to Tom. Menar saw his weight shift. He swung his sword down, but it was merely bait. Tom deflected it and jabbed at Menar with lightning speed. Menar twisted out of the way and swat it aside with his forarm, the blade leaving a stinging sensation on his flesh. Menar pulled the sword in an arc and aimed for his head, prepared to flick his wrist and redirect should he actually come too close.

However, Tom surprised him. He swung his sword up and parried. Somehow, a dagger appeared in his other hand. Menar back stepped before he could lash out. "Very good." Tom said. Menar was already out of breath, which surprised him. "Sometimes, you'll have things thrown at you. Be prepared to dodge this." He threw his arm back and launched th spinning blade at Menar. Menar swpet it off course with a gush of wind and sent it flying back at Tom, who rolled out of the way as it lodged itself in a tree.

Thomas stood up. "A counter-attack...even better. I think that's enough for today." He said in controlled, measured breaths. Menar made a mental note to pace himself next time. "Good. I'm about to die from hunger." he breathed. Menar seethed his sword and began walking with Tom back to camp, but not without glancing nervously at him, expecting him to lash out again. Menar already saw a fire started. He entered thecamp a little bit taller. His hieghtened senses smelled meat. He spotted Chris skinning the carcass off a deer.

Menar's stomach did a flip. He turned and thanked Tom, who insisted that it was no problem at all. THen, Menar walked to Chris, his stomach revolting at the sight of the meat and the sound of the innards being plopped squishily into a relatively large pile next to him. Chris's keen ears already knew he was approaching. "I caught a 9 point." Menar only know what that ment from when the mysterious trappers traveled through his home city with animals.

"I can see that." pointed out Menar as chills ran down the length of his spine. "How did you catch it.?" Chris smiled deviously. "I stabbed it through the heart." he said, obvious pride tinting his words. Menar was disbelieving. "You're good, but I doubt you can be that good. How did you do it?" Chris paused his work and looked up at Menar. If the level of talking abnd the cackling fire behind him hadn't been going, it might have been an awkward silence. Chris stared at Menar without contempt, but as a wise man would stare at a hopeless fool. "If a magician doesn't reveal his tricks, why should I?"

He shook his head sadly and resumed his task of gutting. "With six siblings and my folks, I hunted all the time with objects you wouldn't consider capable of killing game. It was either learn how to hunt well or go hungry. My father sold the furs, so they were able to get paid for our kill too, unless we went fishing. That was a treat." Menar's attention finally drew fully away from the bloody mess and heap of organs that pervaded nearly all of his senses.

"Ah, so you fish?" Chris nodded, not taking his eyes off the deer until his hands finally stopped moving. "I love fishing." Menar said as Chris threw him a glance. "We'll have to go fishing sometime then. We got a pond at the house. Of course the Plutoma River isn't too far off, so we could go there too." "Wait," said Menar, "Where do you live?" Chris wiped his blade on the ground, but without much success, so he wiped it on the hollowed, eyeless deer's fur.

"It's North of Anvilmar, south of the Marshes of Beldon. Nice weather almost all the time." He seathed his knife in his shoulder's holster. "Wanan help me carry these off and bury them so bears and the like won't be attracted to it? I'm sure you don't want to be mauled to death." Menar grimanced.

"No, thanks. I'd rather not lose my appetite." If Menar had not been starving, he would have already lost it. Chris threw back his head and laughed, his rich mirth filling the empty forest for a moment. "Always managing to weasel your way out of work with petty excuses like, 'that's icky!' or 'I almost died!'" he joked.

Menar smiled. "I just have one question thought, how did you end up training in these mountains if you live so far away?" Chris's smile dissipated. "Ah, that's a story for another time, Menar." With that, he fell silent, the chatter of others filling his lapse of words. Menar decided to make his leave then. "I'll se you later. Thanks for dinner." Chris turned to him, obviously not expecting thanks. "Oh, it's fine. I do this sort of thing all the time."

He picked up the organs, and he began to carry them. MEn ar then turned away and left for the fire to silently wait for dinner. He approached the fire and sat with several people around him. Menar wanted to talk to Vaxel, but wasn't sure how to do the magic properly still. He thought of trying it anyways, but fear gnawed at his stomach. Perhaps that was hunger. Whichever it was, he decided to just let his thought wander.

Menar thought of all that had transpired since his visions. He learned of his parents, of his 'godfather' and of a secret demonic cult. He saved a man's life, but, for the first time, he thought of the one he killed. He could not remember the man's features, except those wide, pained, fearfiul eyes staring at him and knowing the end. He remembered the bone crunching and giving way, slopping at the bladeguard in his chest. he remembered the warm blood flowing over his hands.

Menar looked down at his hands- the hands of a killer. After contemplation, he realized that he had no ill feelings about it. He knew that, because of the man's death, he had saved another life- Bethany's. At the rememberance of her name, he no longer held pity or annoyance. He felt a sense of protectiveness. He was remotly surprised about how his feelings had changed towards her.

The only disturbance to his thoughts was hearing the sound of the deers flesh being ripped apart. Menar turned to see the deer, bloody, gutless, and hanging from a tree. Chris held it's hide and jerked it harshly, causing the deer to shudder and lurch violently as it's hide ripped with a sickening slurp. Menar began to fear the skirmish ahead. He realized that the lives he would save by killing would not be in front of him. He would have to kill solely for the knowledge that what he was doing was good. Since that good was not directly in front of him, it was a lot harder to face. Menar's stomach churned as Chris gave the hide a final wrench, tearing it free of the dead carcass.


	12. Chapter 12: Intercepting Intelligence

Chapter 12

Intercepting Intelligence

The company ate their meals quickly. Alexander ensured that eveyone was ready before they departed and were once again their way. Menar journeyed beside Chris, to learn more about his family. Menar found the concept of family intreguing, and felt slightly envious of him. Hours wore on, and Menar conversed quietly with the other members of the company, lightly acquainting himself with those he had trained with in Fort Hood and with some of the seasoned veterans.

He gazed up at that deep, dark sky that cast infinite shadow upon them, the air still light and crisp with cold that seemed to bite at their skin, as if trying to find it's way right to their bones. They were traveling West now, and the land that they crossed grew flatter. The forestry had began to give way deciduous plants. The trees loomed taller and grew closer together. Their footsteps fell upon dry grass and mossy rocks.

When the sun had begun to set, Alexander had halted the group, muttering to himself. "We will make camp for the night now." Menar was concerned at his tone. He decided to approach him once the platoon dispersed. Alexander threw down his bag and sat on it, eyeing his troops.

His gaze fell upon Menar, turning expectant after a moment. Menar approached him, "Is there something wrong?" Menar asked, wondering what had put him in a foul mood. "Yes, there is." He said bitterly. "We should have came across their tracks by now- unless we recieved bad intelligence, that is. From what I was told, they were supposed to be across this way." Menar looked around the forest.

Bugs and insects zig-zagged across the open air. The only evidence of humanity seemed to lie within their encampment. He had no clue where he was, or even if he was anywhere near another city for that matter. "Well," said Menar, "maybe we went the wrong way." Alexander shot him a veheminent look. "Are you calling me incompetant?" Menar hastily replied, "No, not at all! I mean, there is a number of different reasons why we may not have come across them. We are only going into our third day of traveling."

"That's what concerns me, Menar." Alexander rubbed his temples thoughtfully. "We responded quickly, and they were traveling south from the northeastern boarders. We should have intersected them at some point." Menar sat beside him in silence for a moment. "Why would they have messangers on the Eastern side of Strom?" He and Alexander watched the men as they finished creating the camp.

"We think they're making plans to build a fortress or expand one. I think it's more probable of the latter. If they just made an attack on Port James, then they would have had to have some sort of stronghold nearby with an attack of that size. It would have been far too noticable for a small army to march across the country."

Menar frowned, "Where are they coming from?" Alexander let out a bitter laugh. "We don't know. They just seem to pop up everywhere at different times. If we knew where to pinpoint them, they would've been gone a long time ago. They may be savage, but they are intelligent. We think this fortress is near Cajoi, a few miles west of the Silverrune Forest.

"But we're in Silverrune Forest now, arent we? You think they'd come through here?" He asked inquisitively. He nodded. "I know so. They are very good at keeping their secrets; we must outsmart the smart in order to get that information. They wouldn't dare running across the valley that conjuncts into the Azercourt District."

Menar nodded. In his studies, he learned that the Azercourt District was the most wealthy and largest of the five districts that governed Strom. The most relevant fact about that district in this situation was that the King's army was there- and they took their jobs in that district seriously. If they did not do their job of protecting those wealthy members, it would definatley have an adverse affect on the King. He would imagine that the Heartless would be wary of travelling through there.

He nodded. "That makes sense. Then why don't we just take down the fortress ourselves." Alexander stroked his chin and smiled at him. "You don't know what you're up against. Think about it- if they just launched an attack from there, it's likely they'd send their soldiers back there for reassignment, medical attention, and the like, but perhaps, most importantly, we don't know exactly where it is."

"So," Menar concluded, "We need the messengers to see where it is and prevent them from establishing another foothold." "Exactly." Menar was thoughtful, "Chris is an excellent hunter. Have you tried utilizing his skills?" Menar had prayed that Chris was as good as he had said that he was. Alexander shook his head, "Animals and humans are different. Animals are careless and these men are not. Even if he had a sharp eye, it does no good if you don't know where and what to look for."

Menar conceeded to his point. "Well, hopefully we will have better luck tomorrow." he said getting up. Alexander grunted. Menar took a moment to look up at the stars. They winked down at him hopefully. He walked to Chris, "Hey, do you have some extra fabric I can use to make a bed?" Chris was laying down already, watching the stars as Menar had been doing but a moment ago.

"Yeah, it's in my sack over there." Menar looked a little ways off and saw it. He walked to it, kneeling down to open it. Once he had gotten the fabric, he was impressed by it's size; Menar liked being able to wrap his blankets all the way around him. He started to do so before Chris spoke, "I would lie with it open if I were you. Now that we are in a mild climate, you never know what may crawl in and snuggle up next to you in the middle of the night."

Menar realized Chris was right. "Thank you." "Don't mention it," Chris said, receeding back into the confines of his thoughts. Menar glanced at him empathetically. _He probably misses his family._ Menar thought sadly. He looked back up at the stars again. The heavens seemed to smile down favorably upon them. Menar was entranced by the night's beauty and the orchestra of sounds it produced. The animals sounded the exact same as the last time he was in Silverrune Forest. He nodded off to their song, but his dreams were distorted by vauge nightmares.

Menar sat bolt upright, panting and sweating. Everyone was asleep. Something was wrong, Menar could feel it in his gut. _It was just a bad dream_ Menar thought, rubbing his eyes. His heart raced as he lay back down. He calmed himself down within a few moments, fortunately still on the shores of sleep. He was about to let himself float into sleep again when someone had turned over, making a subtle rustling sound.

It wouldn't have normally disturbed him from sleep, but it sounded so different from the night that it caught his attention. Grumbling, he tried to ignore it. Whoever it was had rustled again. Menar looked over to see who was next to him making such a noise, but to his drowsy surprise, no one was. He looked around and realized he was on the edge of camp. _Did I sleepwalk?_ he thought dully to himself.

He sat up now, wondering how he got all the way over here when he heard it again, followed by the lightest gasp of air. He jumped at the sound next to him. He strained to let his eyes become accustomed to the dark. He feared it was some sort of dangerous animal. He had left his sword beside Chris' bag, where he did not remember. He rose up and hurridly started to walk to Chris to alert him.

Suddenly, Menar saw something fall a good ways off from him. It was too light for a branch. He inched towards the brush and peered over it. There was something mocking about the plank-like shadow. When it moved, he realized what it was- it was a man. Menar yelled, alerting the camp. The veterans were the ones to spring up first, within seconds. The recruits were slower about it. Alexander shouted from somewhere, "Defend yourselves! Tighten up! Watch the shadows!" The camp scrambled together for a few moments as some of the recruits tried to dig out their swords. Menar backed towards them, not taking his eyes off the man, hugging himself in a crouched position behind a tree.

"Damn it younglings, get over here! Leave your weapons!" he shouted. All was silent. Tense moments passed before Alexander spoke. "Don't move. Who alerted the camp? Why?" Menar peered into the shadows where he saw the man again, afraid that he wouldn't be there. By the light of the stars, he could see that he was.

"I did," whispered Menar, motioning Alexander over. He complied quickly. "What?" Alexander said urgently, "Where's the danger?" Menar pointed to the man, who looked like a part of the tree if he hadn't seen him moving before. "Menar, what are you pointing at?" "Him!" Menar hissed, "That's no tree root or log- that's a man! I saw him move!" "Menar," growled Alexander, "If you're wrong-" "But I'm not!" Menar insisted. Alexander stared at him hard. "Everyone, advance slowly. Menar, can you light the way?" Menar nodded and began walking with Alexander.

Menar felt his fear flare and used that to fuel the fire that he created and held in his palm. Alexander slapped his hand harshly and stomped out the flame. "You idiot! You'll give away our position!" Menar cursed at himself. "You're not going to get me killed today! Think!" Menar clenched his fists, drawing his hand back and under, lifting enchanted flames from the ground next to what he presumed to be a man. Menar was relieved that it was, but mortified at what he saw.

It was an old man and he uttered a feeble groan, his clothes tattered and slashed as blood stained his entire body. It was clear how deeply he was cut, as blood seeped from him and was matted in spots, indicating he had been walking for some time. He locked eyes with Menar, reaching out a hand, straining, "Help," he whispered. He groaned again and fell forward. Menar would have thought that he was dead if his body wasn't still rocking with shudders.

Menar immediately ran to his aid, but Alexander caught his arm. "You fool! It could be a trap." Menar glanced at him, unhearing. He wrenched his arm free and sprinted forward. The fire died as Menar's attention was commanded by the man. Menar sparked it again so that he could see, this time paying attention to the magic he was funneling.

He turned the man over and grimanced, his heart pained to see the man, clearly elderly. The man looked at Menar. "Who- who are you?" Menar opened his mouth to speak, but was jerked back by someone who had grabbed him from behind. Menar tried to pull free, but his captor was too strong. He was dragged backwards and bouted to behold Alexander, glowering at him. "What are you doing?" Menar sputtered.

Menar turned again to help the man, but was pulled back again. The man watched them unknowingly, whispering things Menar couldn't hear from that distance. "You fool! Go back to the company." Menar tried to jerk free again, turning towards Alexander and pulling his arm from his. Alexander let go and Menar fell back wildly, flailing his arms. He looked up just in time to see Alexander's sharp boot swing from the side and slam into his head.

Menar collapsed, dazed as some of the troops pulled him back at Alexander's command. He was vaguely aware of Alexander kneeling to the man, talking in a quieted voice as Menar noticed the other had formed a circle, facing the forest. Menar wasn't sure how long it was before he regained his senses.

Alexander looked up at Menar and nodded for the men to let him go. Menar went to the man's aid immediately, wary of another attack by Alexander. The old man looked pale and rasped. "Will you help me now? She's in danger." Menar hushed him. "Everything's going to be fine. We're going to get you patched up." In a burst of fortitude, the old man grasped his shirt and looked at him madly, "There's no time she'll die." He drew his hand back and clutched his side where he was cut.

Menar removed his hand and tore off his tunic. He was forced to turn his head and vomit. Every time his chest heaved, blood streamed from his wounds, hosting small pests and insects. "Oh," Menar murmured, a feeling of doubt touching him. _How am I going to get those insects out of his blood? Even if I patched up the wounds, they would still be inside of him!_ Menar tediously worked on the wounds that were relatively clean, instructing Alexander to wipe the foul ones as best he could.

The man uttered a weak cry as soon as they laid hands on him, but fell back in silence. Menar began to sweat. The deep wounds took a long time to heal, and tested his Connection to his limits, especially since he was still channelling the fire. He could feel his mind sag. _I can't let him die_ Menar thought. He pushed himself and combined his own energy and emotion to the magic.

It drained him quickly, for he was already tired from lack of sleep. "Keep pressure on the other cuts." He strained himself, the natural ability that he possessed seemed to elude him. Menar was at his breaking point and was forced to stop. "I can't do it!" he cried, tears falling from his face. The old man just panted, dying. Menar felt slightly relieved at the weight lifted from his mind as his energy stopped leaving his body.

The man wimpered in pain and Menar threw all of his strength and magic into the man's wounds. The edge of Menar's vision grew black as he was about to faint. Before he did, he felt something horrible in his head. It was like the world seemed to split apart and he blinked. In that split second of time, he saw himself standing back at the Sanctuary with Brother Paul.

He smiled, "Brother, you know I can't kill you, because I don't want to." Brother Paul laughed. "I suppose you're right. How about you kill Ulrik instead?" he offered as he pulled out his head from his robe. Menar laughed, "But you already killed him!" Brother Paul winked and smiled wickedly. "It would appear that I have."

At that moment, the world reverberated in a shock wave and Menar screamed, but was immediately silenced by a hand. He glanced around and saw Tom and someone who he learned was named Luis. He was being dragged by them through the forest, the others were ahead of them. "Can you walk?" Luis asked. Menar nodded, his head hurting horribly and his throat as dry as the desert.

They released him and motioned him to hurry and catch up with the group? _What just happened? _Menar thought. _Was it another vision? But...that's absurd_. He remembered the bloody old man in a flash. "What about the man? Where is he?" Tom didn't glance back. "He died. Now keep moving." he said without an ounce of compassion. Menar was dully griefed, but continued on.

"All that was for nothing," he said under his breath, more tears coming to his eyes. "Where are we going?" Menar asked. "To the old man's cabin. We think that the Heartless attacked there. Now shut up and follow." Menar didn't bother to question how he knew that, but he assumed that Alexander had interrogated that from the man. His jaw clenched.

_I swear, if I find them there, I will kill them. _The night enclosed around them, enshrouding them in secrecy, but so too the rest of the world. The woods rushed by without other frames of referance and distance seemed nonexistant as well as time. They all ran through the forest. He noticed the newer recruits now had their swords and they all had their packs.

Menar wasn't afriad of the rushing and unfamiliar trees that seemed to loom and menance over him. He was too angry for that. They continued on through the night until they saw light ahead. Alexander slowed his pace and dropped his pack, motioning for them to do the same. As they approached the light, they realized that the trees gave way to a clearing, and Menar could see that immense flames threw the light.

The air faintly smelled of burning wood and some other sickly sweet smell. He beheld a cabin about fifty paces off aflame. Suddenly, a sick laughter split through the night. Every living thing, human and plant, seemed to shudder at it's sound. A chill ran down Menar's spine as he saw dark figures beside the house. There was seven of them and one of them was kneeling on the ground.

"You stupid, old, little woman!" a feminine voice barked to the kneeling figure. "We don't care about your life! You have nothing of value to give us, and you stop your sobbing right now, because you're the one who distracted us from your husband and allowed him to escape. So we are going to let your screams guide him back to us." The frail old woman spoke loudly, "He's going to get help. He'll be back with an army to make you pay, heathen." Alexander drew his sword as the others followed suite. "Some of you stay here in case they try to make a break for it in this direction," he inched around the forest to ambush them, footsteps falling silently on the ground.

Menar was dripping with sweat as rage filled his heart. As they rounded the clearing in obscurity, Menar could see the kneeling womans face. She looked ragged and beaten, her face caked with dirt, which told a tale of the tears that used to travel there. "I'm glad he got away from you pigs! You'll never understand love and I pity you." She spat at the woman's foot.

Another cackel filled the night, "Such fire inside you- I love it! It makes this all the more pleasureable." She reached out and yanked the woman by her hair, slipping out a dagger and the woman yelped. Menar thought she was going to kill her, but instead she started cutting a large tuft of hair from her. They were almost behind them now. The woman wiped her boot with her cut hair and shoved it in the woman's mouth, who immediately spat it out. As punishment, the woman slashed her face with the dagger dispassionately, and the woman started a scream, but bit her tounge.

"Just kill me you coward!" The old woman sprung to her feet and tried to ram her head-on, her hands obviously tied to her back. Her nightgrown flew behind her as she dashed with a sprint. One of the men, much more quickly, grabbed the old lady by her shoulder and threw her down. Alexander halted the men and turned. He dragged his thumb across his throat and pointed to the woman, indicating that she was to die first.

Menar clenched the hilt of his sword as they advanced. The night was still as they wrenched the elderly woman up, bleeding profusely from her cheek as her hair matted with the blood. She stood and spat again at the woman. She looked down and frowned. She took out another dagger and walked up to the old lady slowly. They were in the open, completely vulnerable if they turned around. Menar lightly focused on making his steps as quiet as possible.

"Death is upon you," the Heartless woman lifted her blade to the woman's throat as it shone hotly in the reflection of fire. The old woman stared straight at her and saw Menar and the company coming towards her. "And you too." Alexander roared and slung his blade upwards, but she side-stepped quickly. The old woman tried to run, but was tripped by one of the Heartless.

They fell into battle, forcing to direct their focus on the other Heartless members. Their blades clashed with reverberating fury, echoing thunder. Menar screamed and jabbed at the woman, but she spun around, incredably nimble, and slashed at him. He jumped back just in time. Chris suddenly came from behind the woman, wielding a piece of flaming lumber from the cabin, the light from his weapon distracting and masking where he would strike.

They all attacked the woman as the others battled. She strained against their efforts. Her eyes flickered to the old woman. Menar saw this and brought his sword down, a battle-cry tearing from his lips. The woman kicked Menar in the chest before he could complete his manuever, spinning from the recoil as the dagger flew from her hand and towards the old lady.

The knife lodged itself in her eye, killing her instantly as she fell back with a dull thud. Fury the likes of which Menar never knew burned within him and he exploded. "You bitch! Your days of murder are at an end!" Menar slung his blade at her, forcing her to focus entirely on her dodge as Alexander tore at her from another direction, scathing her stomach as she screamed. She rolled back as Menar sprinted to her. He rammed her in her stomach. She fell back again and kneeled as Menar sliced the air with fire combusting from his fingertips.

He felt her fresh blood on his face and with conviction fueled his magic, his last weapon. He twisted and contorted his hands, giving life to the fire as it moved, twisting a firey reach for several yards, engulfing the woman in flames. He moved his hands in bouts and expelled a swollen buildup of energy from his palms before he let go of the magic. The woman was still there. Her arms outstreached as she smiled wickedly. Chris screamed as he was attacked from the side, a burly man wielding a shortsword sliced his back brutally.

Chris whirled around with incredible speed, diving under the man and stabbing him in the nape of his neck, killing him instantly. Chris backed away and fell to the ground. "Chris!" Menar screamed. _Everyone's dying_! he panicked. "Another magic user!" She laughed evilly, bending down and tearing the dagger from the old lady's eye socket. She pointed it at him. Menar roared with fury when he saw that her eye was still on it. "I know just how to deal with you." She started chanting in a tounge Menar did not recognize as the eye grew to a bright white light.

Alexander pulled a throwing dagger from his sleeve and threw it at her, rushing her. Menar was entranced as she shouted her final word, the eye shooting at Menar. He couldn't move. Instead of striking him, it turned and sped towards the woman, impacting her chest hard. She fell to the ground. Menar barely heard her say, "Father, I don't understand." She screamed as Menar turned.

He rejoined his blade and fought the others. The battle lasted little longer, for they were clearly not as versed in combat as the woman was. After they noticed their leader had fallen, their morale faltered and they tried to run, but the others at the end of the clearing ambushed them, killing them in seconds.

Menar immediately ran to the woman and grabbed her by her neck, forcing her upright, only to throw her to the ground, pummeling her with blows directly on her face. One of her thin eyebrows split as his knuckl cracked against it and the upper part of her eye drooped. With that, he stopped himself, pulling her by the neck close to him. "Look at me, woman." She opened her eyes, but something clouded her vision, like there were odd reflections in her eyes.

"I am blind," she laughed, "But I knew it was you. Father told me so." Alexander pushed Menar aside. "What is your message?" Alexander said threateningly, "I'm not afraid to die." She spat, Alexannder squeezed her neck and she screamed, squirming. "Who said I was going to kill you? I can do much worse than that." With that, he pulled his own personal knife from his pocket and sliced her ear off in a flash as she howled in pain.

"Now tell me what I need to know!" She was sobbing, "I don't know what you're talking about. You're a madman!" She said menaically. Alexander cut off her other ear, holding them calmly in one hand while choking her screams down with his other hand. "Tell me, or I'll just keep harvesting your organs one by one." "My pocket!" She screamed pitifully. Alexander shoved her ears in her crying mouth and punched her in her throat, causing her to choke on her own ears.

Menar couldn't resist kicking her himself. "Menar!" yelled Tom, "You must attend to our wounded!" Menar's heart fell and he immediately went to where Chris fell, but he was laying on his side, "I'm fine, Menar. Help the other's wounds who are more serious."

Menar knew he was lying. He could see the fire reflecting dimly in his glazed eyes and the blood spotting the grass around him. Menar ignored him and carefully turned him on his side. Chris yelped in pain and Menar traced his wounds with concern. Fortunately, the wound was not entirely grievous, and Chris seemed to be relieved of the pain.

"Thank you," Chris murmered and shakily rose to his feet. The vile woman continued to scream in agony as the numbers near the edge of the forest came dragging their wounded. Menar grimanced at the numbers as he walked towards them. He knelt down next to one of the recruits who had a jagged gash from his upper right shoulder to his diaphram. He began to heal him, but stopped over his middle, something strange about his wound was so that he could not heal it entirely.

Menar healed him as best he could, feeling unsatisfied, but morbidly drained, and he still had three more to heal. Only two, however, held significant wounds. He was almost finished healing the next when he stopped. His body refused to trickle another droplet of energy, and his galvanic energy that fueled his spirit in battle before had since left him. "Menar," said Alexander quietly beside him, "You must heal these two at least, or else there is no garuntee that they will live." Menar cried silently and tried to think back to his lessons with Brother Paul.

He remembered before, when they were attempting to learn a new spell but struggled with it, Brother Paul placed his hand on theirs and funneled the magic through them, familiarizing themselves with the spell, but exerting the energy and magic through their own bodies to acquaint themselves with the magic.

"Commander, I need you to assist me or else I can not continue and these men will die." Alexander nodded and knelt down next to him. "Simply tell me what I must do." " I need you to place your hands on his wound." He did so, and Menar carefully aligned his hand with Alexander. "You will feel something, but no matter what keep your hands placed until you feel like you are going to lose your sanity or die."

Commander Alexander flashed his eyes to Menar and paused, staring at him a moment as if to see if he was serious. "Do what you must and I will do all I can to save these men." Menar found his Connection and released the magic from his fingertips to Alexander's. Menar watched his eyes widen wildly and his lip quiver, but he held firm. Soon, it was accomplished and as soon as Menar took his hands off his wound Alexander ripped his hand from the wound, rubbing his hands together.

"Next," he said quietly. They continued their healing on the next and Alexander had the same reaction. "Sir, I will take the next one; His wounds are superficial." "No, Menar." He could see the care for his troops in his eyes, and his determination was energy Menar could direct towards. Yet, Menar declined "Sir, magic isn't something to underestimate. I will maintain this wounded." Alexander glared at him passionately, wanting to argue, but his ignorance of the subject prevented further contention. "I will rally the others and take accountability."

Menar nodded and went to the final wounded, so very glad that not one of theirs were dead. He was surprised to notice that this one was Tom. Menar smiled weakly, "Well, however you got that slash on your arm, you'll have to teach me how to prevent it, now that you learned something new." Tom laughed, "I suppose so. Let's get this over with. We have more pressing matters to attend to presently." Menar agreed and took Tom's hand to place over his wound and explained him the same as he did to Alexander. Since this wound was not as severe, Tom did not appear as panicked, but he did seemed shocked at the alien touch of magic.

After his wounds were healed, they gathered themselves around Commander Alexander. Menar was extremely fatigued at the energy he had expedited. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, ash, and blood. The repugnant smell sickened Menar, and he almost regurgitated, but he held his breath and the feeling subsided. Alexander surveyed steeled eyes, pausing a moment before uttering a single word.

"This is the taste of battle, it is vile, but it is necessary. If it were not for men like us, this," he gestured to the dead, old woman, "would be rampant across the country of Strom. But it is our resiliency, prowess, our courage and strength that allow us to prevent this. We cannot ever falter, men, and we cannot fail in our mission. With that being said," he stepped away to survey the forest. "We have a new mission. It would seem that what was contained in the envelope I obtained from the Heartless woman were construction orders for a new foothold, and this cannot be allowed. It is our new assignment to go to this place and rendezvous with reinforcements."

"But how do we know that there will even be reinforcements?" Chris stated. "Because," Alexander, reasoned, "this mission was simply to confirm the reasoning for their foothold, which we have achieved successfully. Their presence was already known, but now not only can we destroy them we can follow up with an attack immediately afterwards to their sponsor."

"You'll never succeed! Every single one of you will die." Everyone turned to face the woman, who was kneeling. "Your souls will become mere playthings. You think you serve a noble cause. You're wrong. You are all as blind as I when it comes to reason." "Menar," said Alexander softly, "Kill her."

Menar looked at Alexander, "Sir, she is unarmed." The Commander glared back at him. "We do not have prisons for these people. Hording evil is never good. She needs to die. If not by your hand, then by mine." She glowered at Menar, "What, kill me? You think I care? Death is a lover to be embraced. I gave those old, deluded freaks the proper attention and affection that a cold world failed to allow. I gave them sweet, sweet death."

Enraged, Menar unseathed his sword and stabbed her in the throat, running her flat onto the ground and impaled. Her eyes bulged and her neck distorted to an unnatural form. At a blinding speed he dislodged his blade and cut her head off so cleanly that her head hardly moved at all. His fury welled and with his last magical reserve, he kicked her head with a show of force. Her head soared towards the forest, hair whipping behind her trajectory of flight. A sickening thud sounded as her head bounced off several trees and made the leaves shiver. Birds squawked and flew off into the night.

Menar looked down at what he had done. An immense amount of blood and the lower parts of her hair were all that remained of where her head was supposed to be. Menar turned around, and saw the new recruits of the company was mortified, but the veterans were not. Alexander was the first to speak, "We will march forward for a time, and then we will allow ourselves to take a much-deserved rest." He glanced to Menar, and then to the dead body. "Follow me."

Menar burdoned horrible dreams that night, but they were not at all in the likeness of the ones that had preceded him before. These little abominations were simply the dreams of a frightened man, of the death and pestilence that ensued prior. These dreams were broken and blurry, separated in a montage that made no sense because of his extreme fatigue. In truth, he no longer feared going to sleep, for the dreams that he dreamt were more familiar to him than he was to himself.

They arose to a numbing fog that clung around the surrounding forest land, dragging everything down below the farthest reaches of the sun's rays. It reminded Menar much of when he visited Navaje, and it filled him with misanthropy. He walked with the company towards their new objective, with every footstep, he doubted himself more. Menar looked around him in silence. The others seemed to be in pensive thought, to include Chris, and that was fine with Menar; he didn't feel like speaking anyways.

After quite some time, Chris cast his attention upon Menar, "I want to thank you for what you did yesterday. I should've been more careful." "No," Menar objected, shaking his head. "Only a fool expects a bloodless war. You were just unfortunate, that's all." "Yes, but I saw by the light of your eyes that healing is very draining for you."

"This is true." Menar reflected on the brief period of insanity that he had experienced in attempting to heal the old man. "About that old man- I just wanted to do everything I possibly could for him. I wasn't trying to put anyone in danger." Menar bent over to pick up a twig that was on the ground, upsetting a small frog that had chosen to rest upon it. "Looking back, I see how that jeopardized the rest of you and myself. If it wasn't for Brother Paul's tutoring...We just got lucky this time." Menar kicked at the dirt. "You know, I would very much like to meet this Brother Paul of yours." Chris responded thoughtfully. "When you plan to go back?"

The question surprised Menar. " I don't know. I do not like this killing business, but now that I've seen the reality of what's happening, how can I possibly turn my back? I suppose I could go back to visit, but there isn't much there for me anymore." Chris nodded somberly. "For the remainder of the day Menar could not keep his thoughts off the old woman and man. When he went to sleep that night, he mourned for them and their lost love and their stolen lives.


	13. Chapter 13: Rendezvous w Reinforcements

_**Chapter 13- Rendezvous with Reinforcements**_

No one knew what to expect when they found the stronghold. So many questions remained unanswered: _What are their numbers? How large is it? Is it hard to get into? What will it look like? _Menar wondered. Some questions =more practical than others, but the one that stood out to him the most was _How does evil coinhabit with evil?_ He voiced his concern to Tom.

"Well, well, now we are biting into the pulp of the fruit." He scratched his beard, staring out into the woodlands. "The answer to your question is not clean-cut. The fact of the matter is that they have been able to live together and direct their malovence towards their enemies as opposed to each other. One would imagine that the punishment for breaking the law of the lawless would be death, for that is the worst we can think of. However, these heathens are not bound by our morality, and can think of many fates worse than death. They destroy your life to a point that you wish for death, and they deny you of it."

Menar felt sick. "That's inhuman." "Many a man would argue that they cannot be human. What human has such a deprivation of conscience, such absence of morality? The only thing that binds them together is fear. Yes, it is a powerful emotion that can hinder or put you into action, whether for your own will or against it. You younglings underestimate them, and often it gets you killed. In a sense, you have to become like them."

Menar shot Tom a mortified look, "What exactly are you talking about? I'll never be like them." Tom smirked, "That's not what I saw when you sliced off that woman's head and kicked it into the forest for the animals." Menar's stomach tightened at the realization that he was right. "Don't worry about it too much though, youngling. You only become them if you allow yourself."

"I don't want to join them. They destroyed my town." When Menar fell silent Tom clicked his tongue, "Something that's best to understand is that you're not the only one with secrets and heartache, Menar. Your reason is the most common reason why most people are in the Crusaders. What religion, however devout, has its own army that marches and trails death?"

Menar made a face, "Don't you think that's a gross overstatement?" Tom pulled a smoking reed pipe from his pocket and lightly stuffed it with tobacco. Menar frowned, "And aren't you worried that will alert our enemies?" Tom bit down on the pipe and lit it, taking a small drag of it before he answered, ignoring the latter. "No, Menar I don't think I do. We owe our loyalty to 'God', whatever he may be, and kill in his name."

"Now, when I last attended Church, and mind you I haven't since I was a boy, the Good Book said the whole point of our existence is to serve God, but they stayed very shady about what that meant, saying that God had a plan for us all." Menar nodded. "Of course." Tom shook his head in disagreement. "That my young friend is where you are dead wrong. God does not have a plan for all of us. Sometimes I wonder if God has a plan at all or if he is even real."

Menar was alarmed and looked around at the others in shock. They did not seem to take notice, and if they did they didn't care. "Blasphemy! That's madness!" Menar spurted incredulously, completely taken aback. "God exists. Everything that goes on under the sun is in his eye." Tom looked sad, as though we wanted very much to believe in the idea. "But as sure as the sun is in the sky, night will follow it. Who is chasing who, Menar? Surely the sun in all its basking glory does not flicker at the death of a mortal man."

Menar was silent for a moment, and a horrible realization overtook him. _I am only shocked because he is right, and he was the first to say it. Where is God in all of this, or at least last night? What was His plan then? What was the point?_ "I was taught as a boy growing up to have faith in God, not in man. In my opinion, we can't trust either, Menar." Troubled thoughts played at the edge of Menar's consciousness, but he pushed them back.

He often found it difficult to think with such doubt and emotion welling through him. His identity, the face of everything he believed in seemed shattered on Halloween night. Menar spoke slowly, careful not to say anything that may damn himself. "There must be something that we can all believe in." Tom put his arm around Menar and walked with him. "That's where we come in."

Menar felt blisters forming on his feet. He was not accustomed to travelling so long on foot, and the fur padding in his shoes did little to comfort his aching sores. He had also noticed that many of the younglings, as Tom had so frequently called them, were either limping or walking in odd fashions. One of the veterans laughed and warned them not to get killed just because their feet hurt, else they wouldn't have that problem to worry about anymore.

Menar began to think that maybe, just maybe, that insane woman wasn't completely insane. In all this death and war in life, maybe death was a kind of release. The sun hid itself behind a blanket of dark clouds that threatened rain. Nevertheless, small beads of sweat collected on the top of his brow, but did not yet have the desire to carry on.

The Commander had said that they should be on the lookout for their objective, for it could be upon them at any turn, any hill- any moment. Menar had the rather upsetting idea that it would be underground or worse yet not even exist. Menar wanted more than anything to leave all of this behind him and go back to the peaceful life he had once had. This was nothing like he had dreamt for himself.

Menar had yet to confront Commander Westfall about striking him down for helping the old man. He decided to do so, walking slightly faster than the others and causing some of his comrades to glance at him. They had been travelling for so long; any slight change in anything at all seemed to draw their attention. Menar wished that they had not paid him any mind, because he did not want them to hear the conversation that was going to take place.

Menar finally matched position and pace of the Commander who turned his gaze upon him, burning a hole through his head. "You have something to say?" Menar matched his stare, unblinking. "Why did you attack me for helping the old man?" "Menar, you're not stupid, but you sure act like it. You should have known better than to let emotions get into the way of your military duty."

"Military duty?" Menar spat, "Our duty is to protect others, not just as Elite but as basic human beings. What good would it have been to let him die?" Alexander rolled his eyes, "What good would it have been if you died? That could've very easily been a trap." Menar seethed with rage at his lack of compassion. "But it wasn't." Alexander whirled around pointing one long finger right in Menar's face. The group stopped, watching them with rapt attention.

"When you left Fort Hood you brought your blade to the fight and under _my _command, not yours. This is war, little boy, not a game. Games have rules and war does not. The Heartless will kill any person, use any bait to get the odds in their favor and if you do not leave your compassion behind you, it will lie with you in a grave long-forgotten."

"But if you want to live, if you want to save lives, you must abide by the rules of war, so maybe, just maybe you can live just long enough for your actions to have any significance. Until that day, until we kill enough of these Heartless bastards to eradicate their entire existence, we are all expendable. I've encountered many young recruits with bleeding hearts, and their little hearts bleed until their throats bled too."

He stepped closer to Menar to where is nose was mere inches from his, his breath hot on his face, but the sweat on Menar's skin felt cooled by it. "My advice to you, Menar, is to not be that kind of person, because the only ones who will thank you is the maggots that will feast on your decaying, rotting body."

"You don't want civilians to die- great. But the only way to do that is through me and help me get what I want, which is to have my troops not die. Make me happy, and I make you happy. Piss me off and you die, period." With that, he snapped back to his steady walk, cape lightly hitting Menar on the ankles as he left.

Menar just stood there. Emotions blossomed within him, emotions that could only be brought on by the desecration of values engrained into a man's skin. The platoon walked past him, one of the veteran's snickering, "Dumb cadet." He turned back slowly and saw nothing but peaceful wood behind him, and longed to run into it.

He looked down at a ladybug that was crawling on a leaf of grass. His breathing was wild and his temper flared. Instead of running away, he burned the ladybug alive and turned on his heel, hoping that the fire would grow and consume Silverrune Forest, along with the Heartless and their damned stronghold.

He saw the others in the remote distance, but lagged behind. He would lose it if someone said anything to him. His stomach began to rumble, but he ignored it and pressed onwards. Despite his new-found animosity for their Commander, he was right in a sense, a fact that Menar hated him for even more.

After a while, his clarity returned to him, and he remembered killing the ladybug. Petty guilt pooled in the pit of his gut. Menar wondered if God would think he was weird for praying for a ladybug; however, Menar closed his eyes briefly and said a small prayer, apologizing for losing his temper and killing one of His creatures. It was then in that brief moment of closed-eyed-prayer, that the platoon ahead was ambushed.

Menar opened his eyes at the sounds of swords unsheathing and beheld at least a score of men with bows, swords, and spears laying siege to their group, who had their swords at the ready. Menar quickly hid behind a tree and fell into all out panic, completely unsure of what to do. He heard a voice shout, "Lay down your weapons!"

"Fools, do we look like Heartless to you?" Menar poked his head from around the corner and saw their adversaries put away their weapons. "We had to be sure, now didn't we? It seems you've lost your touch. If we were Heartless we could've easily killed you." They walked out into the open from behind their trees and shrubs and Menar did the same. "I was distracted, John. One of my charges had let my emotions get the better of me."

The man laughed and spat on the ground, "Well, you could've sent out a sentry or something." Menar walked into their circle, some of his company still on edge and jolted at his appearance. The man known as John smiled. He was missing one of his teeth. "Oh I spoke to soon. It seems that you sent a sentry to the rear." John's detail laughed painfully loud at Menar. He blushed. When they settled, he said "I imagine this is the one who upset you, eh?"

Alexander stared Menar down, not saying anything for a moment. "Yes. I was explaining to him how emotions can get himself and others killed. Thank you for giving us an example. Now, tell me, where are the others?" All the while his gaze never left Menar, as if blaming him for getting ambushed.

John smiled again, "Right this way. We were looking for you all, actually." He looked down at Menar and pat him on the back, hard. "Don't look so trodden lad. If you're not dead, there's no reason to feel sorry for yourself." With that, he motioned his men out and their company followed. Menar resumed his usual post beside Chris, who did not say a single word to him.

Their rendezvous with reinforcements was not much farther from where they were ambushed. Two dozen men waited for them, watching them with anticipation and a certain expectancy. As Menar approached the band of soldiers, however, time seemed to move slower.

Through the brush and trees behind them, Menar saw a dipped clearing. In that clearing was a military fort with spiked wooden logs forming a tight wall. A gated entrance large enough to fit an oxen cart faced towards them. Inside there were structures, with the middle being the tallest and each one around it diminishing in height. Menar saw a few fires in the fort, and smelled food, making his stomach growl again.

"That is their camp." John said, drawing a big earthen X into the ground. "There are two main entrances are there," he drew two circles "and there on the other side of the base. If luck is on our side, the best point to invade will be from the west at their rear entrance." He drew two lines parallel to each other. "Yes, hopefully these clouds will clear up before nightfall and we can have the sun at our backs."

Whether jinxed or in spite, at that moment Menar felt a rain droplet on his head. One of John's men squinted up at the sky. "Did you feel that? It doesn't seem as if that'll be very likely, Commander. If we are facing rain, this could present a serious problem for us archers." John cursed and knelt down, preferring to look at his rough sketch as opposed to the fortress itself, as if searching for some obvious answer before the rain washed it away.

"John," Alexander said, "If we decide to wait until twilight, the rain and the clouds may not let up. Furthermore, if we decide to wait, we run the risk of getting caught and losing the element of surprise." Tom spoke, "But it would also be wise to spend some time studying the base though. These younglings will get lost or disoriented in a large-scale battle like this."

"Troubling indeed." Commander John muttered. Menar looked up again at the fortress, light droplets of rain fell on his face, making his bangs stick to his forehead. He squinted. For the most part, they looked like ordinary people, but he knew better. He could sense the evil about that place from here. "I can already gauge your position on this, Commander Westfall." said John. "Since I'm at a toss, we will go with your plan and attack now, if there is no one to give us grievance."

Menar quickly glanced at Tom. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. After a moment's pause, he spoke, "What kind of force are we looking at here?" John got up, pushing past the men to overlook the fortress, kneeling down to reduce his visibility when he got to the edge. "There's going to be archers and on all sides, but only two patrolling now. We do not have enough men for a full siege attack. Our archers will cover us from the other side to deter overhead fire from the enemy." He turned and pointed to the man who had spoken about the rain earlier.

"Archers, you'll be stationed southwest of the wall and attack once we have their attention with a decoy. They will disperse for cover and become disorganized."

"Yes," muttered Alexander, "We can start a fire on that wall as a distraction to lure a crowd of them to put out the fire and your archers can fire into them." He glanced at John, "We have a magic user." John lowered his eyebrows critically, "Who?" "Me," Menar sighed. John burst out laughing, "Of course it would be you. Back to business, though."

"At that point, my forces will charge in from the west gate, divided into two teams, round the edges of the fortress to meet up with Commander Westfall's forces on the other side, and together cut up the middle into their center." He looked around at Alexander's group. "Our men should handle a good portion of the fight. I understand many of you are recruits. This will be your conditioning and you will not get special consideration after this point, if you live."

Commander John looked around him, and saw nothing else but tense faces. "Are there any questions?" Nobody spoke. There was a unified silence. Menar knew what they were thinking, that they knew what they had to do. However, when they looked down at what could possibly be their death, they couldn't help but to want to linger and stare at it.

He heard someone behind him sniff. Several people, including Menar, had turned to see who it was. However, in the rain, it was hard to tell who was crying. What was surprising to Menar was that none of the veterans mocked whoever it was. "Alright, let's move out. Archers, take your positions. Once the invasion begins, make sure that no one escapes. My detail- you know your squads. Move out." He shook Alexander's hand and looked him dead in the eye. "I'll see you soon." Alexander nodded and turned to survey the battlefield.

It was some time after they had left before Alexander spoke. "The problem is that they're located in the middle of the clearing, but the fact that they built it recently will work nicely to our advantage." Tom walked next to him and wiped his face off; the rain had begun to fall a little harder. "How so?" Alexander smiled. "Yes…very nicely. There is mud everywhere from the deforestation- thick and uneven, for the most part." He bent down and dug out a patch of grass to the rain-softened mud beneath it. He grabbed a generous handful and walked to Menar, smiling.

Without a word further, he dumped it on Menar's head. Menar swatted it off his head, "What did you do that for?" "You are going to be covered in mud to camouflage you for when you set that fire. You will be the only one to go; it's too risky for any more than necessary to go. We will be in the forest if you are spotted to give you help, but be warned," Alexander said, scooping up another handful of mud and slopping it into Menar's hand, "We can't really fight archers. Someone give me a hand here." Menar took a breath as his comrades gave him an old fashioned mud-bath.

Menar had to take off his sword belt and his sword along with it. It was too reflective and contrasted too much, so he would be distracting the enemy unarmed, a fact that he was all too displeased with. The others scrubbed themselves with mud as well. He was slightly comforted that he wasn't the only one to have to be soiled, but the others were not muddied to the extreme extent that he was.

They began their march around, constantly scrutinizing the base to see if they were spotted, as unlikely as the possibility was. The trek seemed to last forever, but the rain held steady at least. It wasn't long before they had taken post behind some brush and trees about 130 meters away. The base did seem much larger now that they were level with it, and could hear yelling and clamor from inside, but he was certain they had yet to have been discovered.

Alexander turned to him. "Menar, the outcome of this battle depends largely on whether or not you are successful. If you are discovered, it will make it that much more difficult for us to complete our mission. You must succeed and remain undiscovered. Here, this will help." He took off his cape, completely drowned in mud. "I'll put this over you. Go slow and steady." Menar looked at all of them.

These men had faces of stone, even the recruits, but he could see a sense of loss in their eyes, as if they were saying good-bye to their humanity. With sorrow, he realized he felt the same way. "Whenever you're ready, begin the invasion Menar." He looked back at the base, foreboding and so far away. He sighed and lay down. Commander Alexander put his cape over Menar's back. He felt the weight of it as soon as it was put onto his back, as if all the weight of his comrade's expectations, life and death, and the mission rested on his back. He wondered if this is how Alexander felt all the time.

With that, he was covered from the world. "That's some pretty fine camo," he heard Chris murmur. Menar appreciated the encouraging comment, but comments would not save his life if he was caught. "By the way, you must be quick. It'll reduce your chances of being seen and it'll help our archers avoid heavy rainfall." He put out his elbows and bent his arms backwards, grabbing the cape by his fingertips so it didn't slip off. With a deep breath, he began slowly crawling forward to what he surely believed would be his death.

Menar couldn't get the image of himself dying here in the mud out of his mind. He also couldn't get thought of his failure killing everyone else out of his head. His thoughts also trailed to Chris's family, and the old man and woman who had died for no reason at all. He shook his head to get mud that fell into his eyes off and pressed on.

He looked above him and saw the south guard archer, but his attention was diverted inside the base at something. Menar grew closer and closer to him. At one point, the guard looked his way and Menar stopped, his breath was short and shallow, his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. Menar knew the next thing that would happen was that the archer would string his bow and shoot him dead before he could even move.

But the rain continued to fall and the man turned his attention elsewhere. Menar was still paralyzed with fear. When he mustered the courage to move again, he reached the wall without incident and a foul smell filled his nose. He looked back to where his company was and could barely see them, and only because he knew where to look. He put his hand on the wall and felt the wood, wet and unstripped. He peered in-between the spacing of wood to see inside the camp.

There were many people, men and women alike, but none of them near him, fortunately. Many of them wore regular clothes, but some were dressed in black with that familiar symbol Menar knew all too well. Fortunately no one was near Menar. He heard a door open right next to him, and jumped. A man had stepped out of a small structure to his right. The man walked forward down the muddy street, tightening his belt. Menar knew what the foul smell was now; it was an outhouse. He pulled back and felt the wood again. He closed his eyes and searched his Connection with difficulty. When he was able to concentrate, he Willed fire to the wood.

His hand warmed and the wood started to smoke and hiss, but the wet timber would not catch fire. Menar halted his Connection and fear clouded his mind, paranoid that the smoke had been seen and the hiss heard. After a moment of stillness, he tried again, but failed. The wood simply would not light, and the fire he produced would be seen if he simply tried to channel it just to produce smoke. He cursed. What was he going to do?

He looked back at the group desperately, but there was no help to be had. He peered into the base again, but did not see anything he could use to his advantage. He leaned against the wood, frustrated and pushed it. The ground made a sopping noise. Menar looked intently at the ground and an idea formed in his mind. He dug into the earth using both his hands and magic. He pushed the log again. This time, it moved slightly.

Encouraged, he dug further, digging until he saw the other end of the log narrow into the mud. He readied the Alexander's muddy cape and waved his hand towards the others, showing he was about to begin the invasion. Grabbing as far up the log as he could, he heaved all his weight and might against it. The log resisted and tried to plant itself in the ground, but he could feel it giving way. He pushed harder and the log fell, crashing loudly onto the outhouse behind it and tore through its weak engineering.

The smell of feces filled the air and shouts followed immediately after. Menar quickly ran around to the East side and fell to the ground, covering himself in Alexander's cape. He heard a woman curse and shout, "What the hell happened? It smells like shit!" He waited and listened intently to what was happening. He could see nothing except the barren mudlands that divided him and his detail.

It did not take long for Menar to hear terrible whistles above him. Horrible cries of blossomed the air and Alexander lead the charge from the forest to the southeast side of the wall to enter the gate. He shot up and raced towards them. Alexander threw him his belt and sword. Menar caught it, hastily tying it to himself as he ran towards the gate.

"Come on!" Chris yelled, lagging for Menar to catch up. The world blurred around him as he ran the corner and he could see the others ahead entering the fort, already clashing with the more cowardly Heartless that tried to escape. He saw one of the recruits in charge of luggage uheat of battle. The other recruit who was responsible for luggage doubled back to his aid. "Not you brother! God, not you!"

Menar continued on, wanting to stop, but with a wound like that, there was nothing in his power he could do. "Cut through the center, stay close!" Alexander called. Several Heartless members ran out of their buildings, swords ready, and crashed into their numbers. The thunderous sounds of battle reverberated off the hills. They fought and grinded their way forward, into the center. Fighting and grinding their way, they advanced to the center.

They r, Menar saw several Heartless rushing them to their left. Picking one opponent out, he slashed at him, wary of getting attacked from another at once. The man parried. Menar quickly side-stepped the counter attack and spun around, bringing his blade down low and cut deep into his leg. A scream tore from the man's lips, but was stopped short as Menar stabbed him deep into his ribs.

Menar turned and saw his comrades fighting. He rushed to aid the closest one, but the Heartless was killed before he could get to him. He could see Alexander ahead of him and Menar rushed forward to him to continue the assault onward. They were almost at the center of the fort and the battle intensified. Cutting and slashing his way forward, a pain shot through his side and he screamed, jumping back and dropping his sword. He dodged another strike and kicked his assailant in the groin.

Immediately the Heartless fell to the ground and Menar kicked him square in the teeth, dazing him and knocking out a generous amount of his teeth. He stomped furiously on his head repeatedly until he was sure that he was dead. Menar knelt down, cupping his side and bleeding profusely. A hand grabbed his shoulder and Menar whirled around, ready to fight until his last breath, but it was Tom.

"Get up Menar. You aren't dying yet." But he felt weak and his knees threatened to buckle. Fire seemed to spear his side at every assisted step forward. "Stop!" He panted, "I have to stop the bleeding." Menar fell to his knees and put his hands on his side, feeling the blood stream from his fingertips- this wound was deep. He looked at one of his hands and saw his blood, bright, red, and running down his arm. Fear and rage filled him. He ripped off one of his sleeves and gave it to Tom. "Tie it around me." Tom did so quickly and roughly, making Menar wince.

They pressed forward, Menar's senses heighted. He could feel the rain on his skin, the scent of blood and heard the cries of death. They were upon the center facility and Alexander waited to regroup his forces. Menar could see Commander John's forces rounding into the center to join them. "John, hurry your ass up!" Alexander boomed. "We-" The door to the tower behind him burst open and he was knocked back.

A horrible scream ripped from Commander Alexander's lips as his right hand was cut off. He fell, blood squirting everywhere. Their company roared with outrage at their fallen Commander. Before the man could land his killing blow, one of the recruits impaled him with his sword, pumping his feet and pushing him back into the tower with a roar.

The other two were dead in mere seconds, the full malice of the group unleashed on them as they were sliced to bloody ribbons. "Menar!" cried Tom, "Help!" He didn't need to be told, as he was at his side before he finished his plea. Alexander's eyes were wild with anguish and he cradled his arm close to him with his other remaining hand. "Goddamn it Menar, cauterize it!" Menar grabbed his arm and grabbed Alexander's stumped arm, inciting a scream shriller than any he had heard before, only to sharpen when he invoked fire to the wound.

Alexander kicked and hit him repeatedly. One of his blows landed on Menar's side and the wind was knocked out of him. Stars danced in his eyes as a fell back, writhing in pain and almost losing consciousness. He cried out, but nothing more than a tired whisper escaped him. Chris helped him up as Tom lifted Alexander, clearly unconscious. "In here!" Commander John yelled and they all went into the building.

The room was much like the inside of a pub, with a fireplace lit in the corner. A bar was to the left and tables were spotted throughout the room. They lay their wounded, including Menar, in the middle of the room. John's voice rang throughout the room. "Alright, everyone, listen up! Team one, you'll patrol and ensure that this fort is secured. Half of team two, you'll make sure this building is under friendly control and everyone else tend to our wounded. Go!"

Menar got up, woozily, and made his way to those who could not sit up or stand. The first one he went to, not one of his detail, was already dead, blood pooling around his body in a scarlet puddle, his eyes glazed over in a thousand yard stare. He went to the next one and recognized him as the brother of the luggage carrier. He was crying. Menar saw the blood and immediately lifted his shirt.

It was clearly a stab wound and Menar put his hands over it, to heal it, but the recruit pushed his hands aside. "Help the others. If my brother is dead, then I am dead. Leave me." he them had wounds that were deep and complex. He tried to heal himself, but struggled. He needed to steadily channel the magic in order for his wound to seal, but the pain of his skin tightening together distracted him and frequently interrupted his channeling.

A final wave of pain made him cry out again and he stopped to breathe, shaking. He pressed onwards to heal those he could while the others put pressure and tourniquets on the other casualties. Menar knew that he could not heal them all, and he was feeling so tired and his mind and energy were sapped. He couldn't continue on for much longer. Almost an hour had passed since they had entered and Menar had to stop. His side still burned and he knew he hadn't healed it properly.

The team from inside and out had come back already and most of the ones that were severely injured had died, but the moans of the survivors haunted the hall. They had found alcohol from behind the bar, and they were cleaning the wounds of the survivors. "Everyone," Commander John said loudly, his voice barely raised above the moans of the wounded, "I'm proud to call you my brothers. We have achieved a victory here today, but at a cost." He paused, looking outside. It was already darkening; the torrential downpour of rain beat down, mud and blood flooding the entry way.

"We have to stay here tonight, at least." Menar didn't hear his words though. He was so tired, and he had difficulty keeping his eyes open. He knew he couldn't heal another wound, and unconsciousness threatened to take him. Maybe if he just slept for a while, then he would wake up from the perpetual nightmare…

It had seemed like he had blinked, but he knew that hours had past. He tried to get up, but pain ripped through his side again as his scabs cracked, flesh and ooze separating itself from the dirty rag that clung to his side. At least the moans had stopped- that was the worst of it all, but the moans of the dying were not much worse than the silence of the dead.

He slowly rose to his feet and looked outside. The rain had stopped, but the sky still looked menacing. The door lay on the ground in large splinters, utterly useless. He looked around. There were only a few men awake, huddled by the bar and passing around a nearly empty bottle, whispering to each other. Menar walked to them with heavy feet, clutching his side.

"Where are the others? Captain John?" One of them grunted and gestured towards the back. "Not too sure. There's stairs there that he and the others went on up last night once everyone was stable. Well, as stable as they can be." Menar looked at the others on the floor. "What're you all doing down here then?" His partner took the bottle from him and took a swig. "Stand guard and carry out those who die; those were our orders. The smell gets pretty bad down here, and more decaying wet bodies won't make it smell any better. Plus you smashing that outhouse didn't do wonders, what with the rain carrying it down the streets and all."

Menar turned away from them and went to the doorway, looking out in to the fort, masked in a deathly mist that clung to everything. It reminded him of the ghost towns in the stories that he and Vaxel would tell each other when they were younger. At the doorways entrance, Menar could see Commander Alexander's severed hand. He shuddered and turned away.

He went back inside into the darkness, but only to find Commander John. The steps that the two watchmen had spoken of were near the back. Menar slowly climbed them, trying not to aggravate his wound. When he had reached the top, he looked around. It appeared to be a library more or less, but it could've also been a war room. There were several Elite, leafing through documents. Menar noticed Chris and Tom were among them, none of them aware he was there. Commander John was there as well, silently huddled over a table, impressively stacked with papers and books.

He looked like he didn't sleep at all the night before, and Menar wouldn't of doubted it. The gray shadow of the day must have found its way into this room as well, for everyone's face was stone. "Commander John?" He raised his head slightly and looked up Menar. "Oh, hello," he said, returning his attention to the parchment in front of him. "I'm glad you're still among the living; I wasn't sure if you would make it last night. You were tossing and turning in your sleep last night something terrible."

Menar smiled faintly, "It's not quite that easy to kill me. How fares Westfall? Has he woken yet?" Menar walked to the other side of the desk while Commander John shook his head. "He has, but only to hallucinate and fall back into fevered sleep." He stared down thoughtfully and stared down at the old papers. Caked with dirty stains, the documents seemed to emit a sense of forbidden knowledge.

"What exactly are you looking for here?" Menar asked. "Anything really." Commander John sighed. "I'm just searching for some intelligence of our men can go off of to give us some sort of new direction. There has to be some more information here that we can take back with us to home base. They wouldn't be too happy with us if we went home empty-handed after a raid on a Heartless settlement." "Let me help. I'm sure there's something here." Menar looked at the books, pamphlets, and parchments sprawled across the table. For a force so primitive, he was surprised that they put such a high value on knowledge and order.

They were clearly were formidable force in battle, and had structure to them that certainly contributed to that. Menar walked to the other side of the table to assist him. His eyes scanned the journals and sentry letters. There were so many things to read, that he didn't quite know where to start. He picked one out at random and began the search.

Most of the information that he had gathered were logistical things, such as supply requests and orders for rations and like. They shifted through countless droves and parchments, rarely coming across anything of use. The documents that were not of use they simply tossed on the floor, but the ones that held merit they piled on the edge of the table. "Ah, now here's something." He held the parchment far away from him and then close to see if he was understanding what he was reading correctly.

"What is it that you have there, sir?" "Well, it seems to be their orders for building this fortress, wouldn't you know it? His suspicion was absolutely correct. They did build this to reinforce their attack on port James and Cajoi. This parchment is dated a few months back though. These bastards were quick to get this up and running." Menar looked over his shoulder, curious to see the hastily written longhand.

Strangely, though this looked familiar to him. He read through carefully, trying to get a clue of what was nagging at the back of his mind. He was correct, this was dated only a few months back. Menar stopped, his blood completely frozen into ice, his eyes wild and unbelieving. Rage and fury boiling within him, the likes of which he had never known in his entire life.

Menar snatched the parchment from him, completely oblivious to his cry of protest. There, scrawled in dark ink, was his mother's name and signature. He stood there, teetering on the realms of possibility. Below her name, reading in print, _Military Structures Coordinator. _"What did you do that for?" Commander John asked.

Menar pointed to the name. "This isn't possible!" But the words remained on the page, defying him. Commander John looked at the words, furrowing his brow. "What are you talking about?" Ulrik flashed through Menar's mind. "I'll kill him." Menar's breaths came short and quick, his wound clinging to the rag around his side. He tore the rag from himself, pain shooting through his torso as the wound detached from the soiled rag and opened itself, throwing it on the ground. The others stopped what they were doing.

Menar curled the parchment and stuffed it in his pocket, and storming towards the stairs. "Where are you going?" Menar didn't say a word, but continued onwards. Rushed footsteps sounded behind him as Commander John put his hand on Menar's shoulder. He spun around and drew his sword seamlessly, pointing it directly at his throat. The Elite cried out, "Try to stop me and I will spill your guts all across this damned floor." Menar hissed.

"Stop that, Menar!" barked Tom, as he and the others rallied to him. "You're not thinking straight." Menar backed away, pointing his sword at all of them. "I quit this. I never wanted to be a part of it. This death, this killing, this madness- all of this can go straight to hell. I've been lied to and I am going to make the one responsible pay. I will kill everyone who stands in my way- so back off!" he waived his sword, almost swinging it.

"Put your swords away, for God's sake." Commander John glowered at Menar. "All of you!" Hesitantly, the troops behind Alexander complied, but Menar did not. "Menar-" Chris reasoned. "Think about what you're doing." Menar laughed manically. "You don't even know- none of you do." "You're just going to leave?" Chris said quietly. "What about those downstairs who need your help?"

"Let them rot." Menar spat. "They're dying for lies." "You don't mean that, Menar." Menar threw his sword down. It bounced and clattered off the floor uselessly. He ripped his shirt in half to reveal his wound. "I mean it! I bled with you; I know, and it leaves a foul taste in my mouth. It tastes like dirty lies." "So I bled for nothing? What about my family?"

"Screw it, let him go." Commander John glowered. "There's no stopping a coward." Menar roared and drew his hand back, pushing his Will forward. Commander John tried to get out of the way, but wasn't quick enough. The force of the wind Menar expelled sent him flying back, slamming into the wall with extreme force. He lay on the ground, dazed and barely conscious. Menar snatched his sword and started for him, but was held back by Tom and Chris. He struggled against them, "Let me go! I'll kill him! I'll kill you all!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face. "I've got to kill them. It's the only way."

Several of the troops helped Commander John up. Regaining his wits, he stared Menar down. "If I didn't need you to help heal the others downstairs, I would execute you now." Silence followed. Tension mounted in the room. "Fine, heal them and go." "Oh, I'm going to continue to kill the Heartless," Menar said as the Chris and Tom released him. "Until I find the person who wrote this paper and kill her."

Commander John snorted. "If you're that foolhardy, then it looks like I won't need to kill you after all. Get out of my sight; the faster you heal them, the faster you can leave." Menar looked around him, lingering on Chris and Tom. He turned and bounded down the stairs, stopping to the first one that he saw. For the ones that could be woken, he asked to use their energy to heal them, not wanting to unintentionally kill the ones who were too weak or to tire himself for the journey back to Cajoi.

The guardsmen stared at him, and Menar was certain that they had heard what had happened upstairs, but he paid them little mind. His mind and hands worked quickly. _Ulrik has done nothing but lie to me from the beginning. I'll kill him for it. My mother is still alive and working hand-in-hand with the Heartless. Why would he lie to me about her death; what would he have to gain? For that matter, is my father alive as well? _

No answers came to Menar. He heard a noise next to him and turned his head to see Chris. "Hey," he said, kneeling down next to him. "What happened up there?" Menar pursed his lips, saying nothing for a moment. Menar told him, Chris's eyes widening in understanding. "Oh." Menar came to Alexander, aware that he had already healed him, but he checked on him anyways. He roused himself when Menar shook him. His eyes were still glazed and he appeared confused. "Menar?" He nodded, "How are you feeling? Do you need healed?" He asked bluntly.

It took him a moment to register the words that Menar had said, but he shook his head slowly. "No. But I am thirsty. Can you get me some water?" Menar turned to the guardsmen behind him, calling them for water, and pressed on, leaving Westfall behind. "What're you doing here, Chris? Shouldn't you be helping John upstairs looking for 'useful' information?" Chris shook his head. "No. I'm going to help you." Menar was taken aback. "You're going with me?" "Yes, I am."

They walked to the next person. Menar shook him, but he didn't move. Menar put a hand on his neck, feeling for a pulse. When he could not find one, Menar put his head down on his chest. "God help us, Chris. We're all so human." Menar looked at the guardsmen, who were giving water to Alexander, so he rose and grabbed the man's feet himself, nodding his head for Chris to grab his hands.

They lifted him up and carried him outside into the foggy cold. He saw the bodies lined up in a neat row, their arms all folded over their chests. But the peacefulness of their positions couldn't hide their wounds, nor could it detract from the fact that they had caked dirt all over themselves and were lying in mud with a stream of shit not too far down the way. Menar spat on the ground. It was a long walk to the end of the line. He and Chris lowered him carefully, as if delicacy mattered more now that he was dead than when he was alive, and folded his arms.

They went back inside, and Menar healed the rest of the wounded, making little conversation with Chris. Menar had trouble wrapping his mind around everything that had just happened, and he couldn't make sense of any of it. Troubling thoughts stuck in his mind and destroyed every certainty in life he thought he had, but of the many questions that appeared in his mind, one thing manifested itself as absolute truth- Ulrik must die.

Menar and Chris tended to the rest of the wounded. Upon the insistence of Chris, Menar channeled magic through him for the last few casualties. "Why are you going with me, Chris? Did John tell you to?" Chris shook his head. "Don't you worry about that. That is my business." Menar snorted and said no more. When they were finished, they stood. Menar looked out the door. "Go." They turned to see John behind them, his eyes glaring and brimming with hatred. "Before I change my mind on killing you."

Someone on the floor stirred, trying to rouse himself. It was Westfall. Menar made his way to the door, with Chris following. It was so cold out, but Menar still felt hot with fever. They made their way through the town, trying not to look at the multitude of dead bodies around them. They left through the southeast gate; Cajoi would be in that direction. Menar could barely make out the forest beyond the expanse of mud the stretched before him. He clutched his side and sighed, "This is going to be a long trip." "I hope you're ready."


	14. Chapter 14: Headed Home

_**Chapter 14- Headed Home**_

The woods seemed endless, and Menar would be glad to get out of them as soon as possible. Chris, however, did not seem to mind them at all. They had walked in unease for hours, hardly uttering a word to each other. Anger still coursed through Menar, and Chris appeared to be deep in thought. He was glad that Chris had not tried to strike up conversation; for there would be no consoling him or reasoning. Perhaps what he was doing was stupid, but it was necessary.

Menar knew that the Sanctuary had evacuated, but he was sure that they would be returned by now. Maybe his vision of killing Ulrik hadn't been brought on by insane hallucinations. He spent his time fantasizing about the ways that he would kill him, not yet deciding on which, so as to keep open every possibility and boarder lining on torture.

The fog had cleared later that day, but many clouds still ruled the sky. They had stopped to make camp before the dying sun was able to make its last perch on the horizon, and Menar's destination was in sight. He did not want to stop just yet, but hunger had forced him to. Chris volunteered to catch food, while Menar gathered firewood to make a campfire to roast their meal.

He had the fire started before Chris had returned with rabbit. They skinned it and cooked it. The meager meal did little to sate Menar's hunger. "Do you really plan to kill him?" Chris asked quietly. "Yes, he deserves it." Chris looked deeply into the fire. "That may be true but it doesn't mean that you have to." Menar shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't matter now anyways. I have nothing left. Everything I ever knew- my town, my friends, and my life are all gone. I have only one thing now that keeps me going."

"A vendetta? I don't think revenge is very Godlike." Menar shot Chris a disdainful look. "Oh yeah? And where is God in all of this? Tom was absolutely right in what he said; God has deserted us." "I've always struggled in my faith with God, but I did not let those who I didn't like to deter me from what I believe." "What I was taught to believe in was a lie along. How can I have faith in anything anymore? It doesn't matter what you're taught or raised to believe. When you're on your own the only truth is the reality you live in. I lost my faith in what I cannot see."

The fire cackled, sending a small shower of sparks to the sky. Chris sighed, "Okay, so what do we do now?" "As much as I would like to continue, I need to rest. Healing the others today has drained me, and I will need my full strength to execute him." "You know the city guard probably won't take too kindly to that." Menar ignored what he said. He didn't want to think about the consequences of what was to come, but to instead focus on what needed to be done. "Whenever you do what you have to do, we must report back for reassignment."

"I'm not going back." Chris looked Menar dead in the eye, "I was told that if you do not, I am to kill you." An icy silence followed. Menar stared at Chris from over the fire. "Commander John I presume? It doesn't matter. I'm not going to die until I have killed my mother too." Chris broke the stare by looking down at the fire again. "You heard what Commander John said, and I agree with him. Trying to fight an entire army by yourself will only get yourself killed."

"I'm going to bed." Menar curtly. He turned away from the fire. He heard Chris open his pack and get out his fabric to lay down on. "Do you want some bedding?" Chris asked. When Menar said nothing, Chris smoothed out his cover and lay down. Menar heard faint whispers, and realize that Chris was saying a prayer. Then, Menar slept.

_He was walking through Cajoi. The quiet streets lay before him. He knew he would be here. Then again it had been some time ago. Still, he remained diligent. With any luck to be had at all, he would prosper and be rewarded. He turned down an alley, almost tripping on a homeless man in the dark. After stopping to look at his face, he moved on; it wasn't him. He gave a tired sigh to the wind. Where was he?_

Menar opened his eyes and saw that it was still night. His head hurt terribly, and his side burned. Sweat was dripping from his brow and his hair was matted with damp. He sat up and looked over at Chris, who was still sleeping. He carefully lifted himself to his feet, and staggered away as quietly as possible. He wheezed his way across a field and to the main road that would guide into the city. It was so very difficult to see; his eyes hurt, and his fever had returned with massive intensity.

He stumbled and fell, crying out at the worst pain he had ever felt. He lay writhing on the ground for a while before getting up again. He needed to stop, but he knew he could not. If Chris was true to his word, then Menar would have to kill him as well, and he did not want for that to pass. The city grew ever closer, but his energy drained with every step. For a moment, he could not see the city. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his eyes, and once more the city was there, beckoning him.

When he finally reached the city, he almost did not recognize where he was. Looking around, he walked the streets as a stranger would. Exhausted, he finally recognized his surroundings. He walked down an alley and turned left on the next street and he could see the Sanctuary, dark and foreboding. Silently, he proceeded up the incline that would lead him to Ulrik. Even though he was weakened and in pain, he would complete his objective even if it took his last breath. Ulrik will die now, tonight.

He slowly climbed the steps to his old home, panting and dripping with sweat. His entire body felt so hot and tired, but he would not let himself stop. He had to do this. Time and his heart seemed to beat slower with each passing second, and he had tunnel vision. The peripheral of his eyes closed in around its focus, more and more, until everything went black. The last thing he remembered was collapsing to the ground and seeing a big black sky with small white stars.

The first thing he was aware of was voices. They weren't whispering, but he still had difficulty making them out. It was a strenuous effort to pull his eyes open. He immediately knew where he was, for he recognized the ceiling he had stared up at time and time again. He was in his bed again. He had hoped that it had all been one elaborate dream, but his aching side taught him the better.

He looked to his right where the voices were coming from. His door was closed, but he knew that they were coming from the hallway. Menar pushed back the covers, put his feet on the floor, and slowly got up. Surprised that he did not feel pain, he lifted his shirt to look at his wound. It was completely healed now, and only a scar remained. He took a second to look at his new clothes, wondering what had happened and who these belonged to.

He walked to the door and opened it. There were two girls talking right outside his door. He recognized one of them as Claire. She look at him, drawing worried expression and rushed over to him, leaving the other girl in mid-conversation. "Menar!" She embraced him. He caught her and his heart fluttered. Her hair smelled like peaches and cream. "Oh, I'm so glad that you're ok. You looked half-dead whenever that boy brought you in here. What in the world happened to you?"

Chris was here- he must hurry. She pulled back from him, holding his shoulders and looking into his eyes. Her eyes were scorching pools of penetrating blue that froze his blood to ice. "War happened. I've got to go." He gently pushed her aside and strode towards the Headmaster's office. "What are you talking about? Where are you going?" "To take care of business." Menar said bluntly, not bothering to stop or look at her beauty. He knew that it would entrap him, and he had no time to be deterred.

She stared at him as he walked away, never taking her eyes off him. Menar rounded the corner. He was almost there now. He didn't need his sword to kill him. _Actually, _Menar thought, _It's all the better. I'll get to kill him with my bare hands. _He stood outside of his door, pausing for a moment. It was not out of hesitation, but for the rush of anticipation as adrenaline pumped through him.

"Menar?" He turned to see who called him. It was Chris, followed by Brother Paul. He rushed inside. "No!" Brother Paul cried. Menar slammed the door shut and engaged the lock, but he knew it would not stop them for long. He whirled around to see Ulrik reading by one of his many shelves. He looked up, surprised. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be here." Fury filled Menar as he Willed a gust of wind at him. Books and trinkets pounded him; Menar immediately followed with a flare of fire spiking towards him like lighting.

Ulrik quickly rolled out of the way and barely avoided the flaming streak that ignited the wall. Menar roared and channeled a river of flame from his palms. Ulrik lifted his hands in an effort to divert the magical flow. Burning pages and ashes rained down upon them and the door behind him burst open as Brother Paul, Chris, and Claire rushed in. Menar Willed the flaming books to cast themselves down on Ulrik. He pushed all the air behind him, knocking them down before they could reach him and propelled himself forward, smashing into Ulrik and expelling them through the window behind him.

They fell scattered as glass bombarded and cut them. Menar jumped to his feet as Ulrik did and deflected a blow, kneeing him in his ribs and punching him in the face. Ulrik staggered back as Menar called the Earth to his fists and screamed a horrible battle cry, Willing the wind once more to give him momentum as he struck Ulrik square in his chest, sending him flying back farther than he had seen any man. Menar ran in for the kill. Brother Paul manifested in front of him and pushed him back. "Don't touch me or I'll kill you too!" Menar broke his arms away and pushed Brother Paul to the side.

"Stop Menar!" Brother Paul grabbed his wrist and whirled him around, grabbing the other. Menar head-butted Brother Paul in the chest and knocked the wind out of him. Freed from his hold Menar sprinted to Ulrik, who lay motionless on the ground. Hopping on top of him and choking him with all his might. "Let me see your eyes you bastard! I want you to watch me as I kill you!" Stars danced in Menar's eyes and he was knocked off Ulrik. He bouted and threw a punch at Chris. He dodged it and struck Menar in the shoulder, missing his head.

Menar kicked him square in the chest and made him stagger. "Menar!" He turned and threw a reflexive punch, striking Claire on her cheek. Stunned, she fell to the ground. Menar stopped, panting. His arms were grabbed from behind. He struggled to free himself but couldn't. "Stop it right now!" He saw the burning orphanage, smoke billowing out the window in a dark plume. He burned the image in his mind and Manifested towards it. He faced the fire and turned to them. "This isn't your business. His life is forfeit to me." Brother Paul stepped towards Menar. "What are you-" He stopped dead of Menar, eyes widened in horror. "No…this can't be possible." "He lied to me about everything! He told me that my parents were dead, but my mother is still alive. What all hasn't he told me? Do I have a brother, a sister, is my father still alive for that matter? HE MUST DIE!"

"For the love of God Menar, shut the hell up and listen to me you fool!" Brother Paul shouted. "He didn't know that your mother was alive!" "Oh yeah?" snarled Menar. "How would you know? Hasn't told me anything from the beginning, and he is supposed to be my Godfather He is a liar and for that I will kill him." Menar started for him again. Brother Paul shoved him back once more. "I know because I was there!" Menar stopped, staring unbelieving into Brother Paul's eyes.

"You knew?" Brother Paul sighed. "Your father came to us with you. He delivered you to us to protect you from the Heartless. They were after your mother for betraying them and your father, and they had no knowledge of your existence. They would have killed you too. Don't you see?" Menar seethed with hatred, glaring at Ulrik's body. He hoped he was already dead. "You never told me. He lied to me again- he said that you never knew him, that you were just my father's replacement."

At last, Menar finally understood. Menar drew water from the pond Vaxel and him first met and slung it at Brother Paul, solidifying it into ice as it slammed into him, knocking him down. "You knew she was alive! When we escaped the attack- that thing you wouldn't tell me!" Brother Paul rose to his feet slowly, and did not look Menar in the eye. "Yes, but only so you wouldn't go looking for her. She is on the enemy's strategic counsel and one of our most wanted enemies of the public. When she attacked here, I had to get you out so that they wouldn't discover you. She would have sought you out for God knows what purpose! I did it because I care about you."

Menar glared at him, looking behind him as Claire walked towards him. "Menar, stop this, please." "I'm going to find and kill my mother. You'd better tend to Ulrik if he isn't already dead. It seems I went after the wrong person here." He stared at Brother Paul coldly. "I'm only leaving you alive now because I know it was you who healed me and saved me from my illness, but you'd better not stand in my way." He glanced at Claire and his heart panged. "I'm sorry." Menar ran away towards the town, leaving them and the fire behind.

His feet raced as fast as his heart and thoughts. It was only when he reached the town that he slowed down. He strode into the nearest alleyway and fell to his knees, crying_._ "How could Brother Paul lie to me?" he whispered. He rose himself andlooked up into the sky. "What does it all mean? What purpose does this serve?" he cried to the heavens. He waited for an answer, but the only one that came to him was a blow to the back of the head. He fell face first to the ground and knew no more.

He woke up. His head hurt terribly and he thought he felt blood on the back of his neck. He went to wipe it off, but his hands were bound, tightly at that. He jolted at the fact and realized that he was gagged too. He saw that he was in the fields just outside the city. "Greetings young one." A gravelly voice dragged. He snapped his attention to the source, a scraggly man with wild, dirty hair that fell over his eyes in clumped strands. His clothes were stained and smelled something foul. He smiled a slow, sinister smile. "Oh, how I've been waiting to meet you. Quite an honor I'm sure."

He got up, joints cracking, and stretched his back. "You're heavier than you look. I just had to stop and rest awhile. The boss-man might not like that, though. But it's ok! It's ok I'm telling you, because I have so many wonderful, delightful things in store, and it's all thanks," He beamed, "to you." Menar watched him with rapt, unwavering attention, wondering who this man was and why he captured him. The man knelt down close to Menar and put his face close to his. Menar heard the metallic scraping of a knife coming from its sheath.

His eyes were wild and brimming with the character of a man gone completely insane. Fear spread in Menar's chest, consuming him. Death was a very real possibility. The man pressed the knife against his cheek. "Your skin it's so smooth, yet so fallible…if you promise not to scream, I'll ungag you. Deal?" Menar nodded. The man was true to his word and took out the rag from his mouth. "Why did you kidnap me?" The man cackled maniacally.

"Well it's all so simple, my boy" the man said, ruffling Menar's hair. "Your blood is precious. Some people I know want it. Either you really made an impression on someone," He pointed his knife at Menar, "Or you pissed them off in ways that even make me afraid." He shuddered melodramatically. "I knew you'd come back, though. I just knew it." The man smelled Menar, who leaned back away from him.

"I imagine you're Heartless? You attacked Cajoi?" The man twirled his knife thoughtfully. "No, no I'm afraid Port James had that pleasure. It probably backfired on me though, because once my superiors got wind of you, they just had to have you, little boy. I'd imagine that Port James is just riddled with bothersome security." Menar looked around for something to use to his advantage. He humored him with conversation, to distract and stall him. "What does that matter?"

"Oh, that's where we'll be going. It's going to be a fun challenge getting you onto one of those boats. You'll love it though. The ocean is a calming, peaceful place to be, and guess what?" The man paused, grinning at Menar. When he did not answer, his grin transformed into a terrible frown. He stabbed a tree, "Guess what?" He screamed, getting down on Menar's level. "What?" Menar whispered pathetically. "We'll get to go by Anvilmar. It's such a beautiful city of pretentious, self-indulgent lie. We'll get a good view too, going in the inlet of the Plutoma."

"You see," he said, taking the knife out of the tree. "There's this little town, called Maracca just a little ways east of Anvilmar. It's a bit of an unpleasant town, mind you, but you may have heard of it. Just a wee bit north of that we have Charlton, which is where we're going, and we should probably hurry too before the day comes in."

"Who are you?" The man laughed. "You can call me Joher. Now, get up and start walking." Menar arose and slowly started walking. If he started running, then he would eventually be caught, unless he could make it to the city, but he didn't want to risk it. If he got caught again, who knows what this man was liable to do.

Then, he thought of a plan. He pretended to trip and fell on his face. "Hey, help me up you deranged psychopath!" He hollered. The Heartless man grumbled black curses at him and jerked him by his arm up. Menar willed the heat of fire to his cloak, but only a small kindle. Menar head-butted the man in the chest, knocking him down in a whoosh of air. The man wasn't stunned for long, and ran after Menar.

"You little brat! No one makes a fool out of me." He yelled. He was quickly gaining ground and was right on Menar's heels. He screamed and fell to the ground rolling. Menar paused to look behind him and smiled. The man had lit parts of the field on fire and enflamed his own clothing by running. He had almost put out the fire on himself. Menar sprinted towards Cajoi. Menar heard a strange sound and tripped, smashing his face against the ground and splitting his forehead.

He rolled over and looked down at his legs. The man had slung a net with balls at the end to trip him. He advanced towards Menar, his knife drawn. "Get away you lunatic!" The man snarled and grabbed him by his throat. "You're going to regret that." Menar coiled his leg back and kicked him hard in the stomach. The air rushed out of Joher's lungs in a whoosh, and he fell backwards. Menar scooted backwards, trying to right himself so he could jump to his feet.

Before he had the chance, the man recovered, his eyes wild in a firey frenzy. Screaming and running towards Menar, he raised his knife. Menar closed his eyes and cringed, certain this was his end. The next sound he heard was the man falling. He opened his eyes. The man was squirming on the ground in agony. Menar got to his feet and kicked the man square in the head. The man cried out and covered his head with one hand and covered an arrow that was protruding from his shoulder with the other.

Alarmed, Menar whirled around, looking for the other attacker. Menar squinted and saw three people running across the field from Cajoi to him. They did not appear to be his enemies, so Menar turned his attention back to the Heartless member. He continued to writhe on the ground. If it was the city guard, then he was going to have a difficult time explaining who this man was and why he attacked him. Either way, the man was obviously deranged, so his words would surely fall upon stone ears.

"Menar!" He recognized as Brother Paul. He cursed under his breath. A moment later, Brother Paul, Chris, and Ulrik were standing over the Heartless man, binding him. He gave little resistance. Once he was taken care of, Ulrik stormed towards Menar, spitting at his feet. "You little bastard! I ought to kill you for what you did." "Ulrik, now isn't the time." Brother Paul cautioned. Ulrik glared at Brother Paul with venomous eyes.

"It's your fault he nearly killed me and burned down the orphanage, Paul. If you were going to be this wedlock's caretaker then you should've spoken up. I didn't ask for his rotten carcass. It's his father's own damn fault for running off with that harlot." "You shut up!" Menar shouted. "Or what?" Ulrik sneered. "Your parents were foolish and impulsive. You have a lot of your father in you and look what happened to him."

Menar stepped towards Ulrik, but Ulrik lashed out and punched him in the nose, knocking him flat on his rear. "Stop this stupid fighting!" Chris shouted, pushing Ulrik back. "This isn't your fight, Chris." Brother Paul said. "This isn't the right fight to pick! We have more important things." Menar seethed with rage. "We need to figure out what we are going to do. This nonsense and killing each other can wait until later. Right now we have a prisioner that needs to be questioned. Can we at least wait until that's over with?"

The only sound through the night was the man's lowly whimpers- even the crickets didn't chirrup. "Let me help you up." Brother Paul said, walking to Menar. "I don't need your help." Brother Paul helped him up anyways and untied him. Ulrik walked to the man and roughly turned him over. "Why did you take this boy?" The man spat in Ulriks face. He wiped the spit off and grabbed the arrom protruding from the man's shoulder.

The instant his hand made contact with the shaft, the man howled with pain, only to amplify when Ulrik snapped it in half. The vibrations sent waves of torment into the man's chest. To Menar's surprise, he didn't make a sound. He thought for a moment that the man had fainted from pain, but when he approached, he could see that the man was biting his tounge. "He said that he was going to take me to Crual." All three of them looked at Menar in shock. The man's spattered laughter filled the air. "You're going there. I don't have to take you, but God the rewards would've been plentiful. It's fate." The man cackled. Chris looked at him disdainfully. "Do we really have to keep him alive?" Ulrik bent over the man. "Where is your Leader?" "Charlton." Menar piqued. "He said that it's just north of Maracca." Chris's eyes widened in horror. "What could they be doing there?" The Ulrik forced the man to sit up. Chris looke at Brother Paul with concern. "I have a bad feeling I know what it is."

Brother Paul looked at Chris. "What're you talking about?" "My family...they've been damming up the river to build weapons. I've seen it myself, but they fly the king's banner. Honestly, I had no idea they were Heartless." "You are all so stupid and guillible." Johel said darkly. Just because someone flies a piece of tapestry with pretty colors and a heartwarming image on it you think that you're safe? This is what is going to make this invasion so easy. The country of Strom will inevitably fall."

Menar struck the man, causing him to topple over and instigating a sharp glare from Brother Paul. "My hand slipped." He said nonchalantly. "Is your organization planning to attack the capital?" Ulrik pulled the man up. He had a tiny green bottle in his mouth. Ulrik immediately tore it from the man's lips, cursing. Liquid glimmered off the lips of his terribly crooked smile. "I go to my reward, and it will be even greater than any one reward that Crual could give me. Dark Father be praised." The man's laughter turned into a cough. He convulsed on the ground, the half torn arrow protruding from his torso scratching the ground. A moment later, he was dead.

Silence ensued. Brother Paul was the first to speak. "We are presented with a rather unique opportunity. I think it is obvious here what must be done." Menar stared at the dead man with contempt. "Of course, we kill the bastard." "It's not as easy as that," Ulrik said. Menar turned to him. "What do you mean?" "He is immortal," said Brother Paul. Menar looked at him with disbelief. "So then we are already doomed, huh?"

Ulrik shook his head disapprovingly. "No, there are ways to kill an immortal, but it depends on how they obtain their immortality; there is always a perpetual drawing to the effect. We have to interrupt his draw of what it is that makes him immortal." "So what is it?" Chris asked. They were silent for a moment. "I believe it is his sword." Ulrik said. "How can you be so sure?" Ulrik waved his hand over the man's body and it caught fire. He walked south, towards Port James. Chris and Brother Paul followed. Menar glanced at the Johel burning before he proceeded onwards. The wind carried Ulrik's chilling words to Menar's ear. "Because of something Crual said to me a long time ago."


	15. Chapter 15- Forgive and Forget

**Chapter 15**

**Forgive and Forget**

The landscape passed by in a blur. The only thing Menar could think of was how Brother Paul had betrayed him and of how his actions almost killed Ulrik. Menar never would've imagined Brother Paul would have the audacity to withhold information about his mother. Menar still had difficulty believing the fact that he did, indeed, betray him.

Menar looked at him with a mixture of hurt and disdain. When he finally found the courage to speak, he said, "Brother Paul why did you not tell me of this before? Had you planned to keep this a secret from me for the rest of my life?" Brother Paul sighed and gazed into the distance. "Yes, Menar I think I would've done that. Or if we had eventually killed Crual may have told you then. But it does no good to postulate what could've been. What happened is not how either of us had wanted."

"Yes, because I found out." Menar said bitterly. "How did you even know that she was alive?" "After your father had brought you to us, we thought they were both dead. However, there has been intelligence floating around the elite that she is on the Military Council. We try to archive all important documents and of who may be on important commissions. We established them as high profile targets and aim to kill them to disrupt the organization of the Heartless"

"I hate all of this. Only wanted to do was to be a healer. I never wanted a part in this war and I have no idea what you dragged me into this." They walked in silence for a moment. "Menar no matter what the reasons could be you helped many people and people would be dead right now if it was not for you. You need to appreciate the fact of where you are now and not so much as to the reasoning of why you got here."

Menar ignored Chris. "All work," Menar said hesitantly. "I owe you an apology for what I did. I know that this simple apology can't make up for it but I want you to know that I'm sorry." Or plants that Menar. "You stupid and foolish. I know you are set but you can't just go around doing whatever you would like to expect them not to be consequences."

"You may no longer be bound by the rules of the orphanage, but there are rules for the organizations you represent." He held up a hand to stop Menar from interjecting. "I know you don't think that your part of the elite, but the truth is you are. It's not just some club; it is for people who wish to protect Strom and its people from those who would seek it harm."

"I know this is a sensitive subject but we need to hurry." Chris said. "The location of this base and for what seems to be its purpose is a matter of urgency. We have no idea if they're going to attack the capital, and furthermore my family is near them. We can talk more on the ship, but right now would really appreciate it if we could hurry." Menar nodded in agreement, for Chris' sake. They continued to walk towards Port James in silence.

The sprawling rays of sun that extended over the Snowcap Mountains to their left gently illuminated the landscape. The glittering Debrolli Ocean lay clear in their view in the vast expanse of grassland that divide their rag-tag party and the modest town of Port James. Menar had been here seldom times when he was younger with Brother Paul and his classmates on trips to see what the real world was like. He glanced at Brother Paul and his heart sank under suppressed waves of anger and sadness.

He decided to take up the argument again now that their destination was close at hand. "Brother Paul…I need to know, with no more secrets, is my father still alive?" "I do not believe so. At least, I have heard nothing to indicate that he would be." "Then why is my mother still alive? I thought that the Heartless killed them both. Did she betray my father?" "That's one possibility, but not likely," Ulrik said, "She could've just killed your father before the Heartless looked for the two of them and just killed you or abandoned you somewhere. The only person who truly knows is her?" Menar heard the edge in his voice, and it stung him. "It's clear she's shacked up again with the Heartless, and I intend to find out why- even if it kills me." Menar said.

They heard the seagulls well before they heard the hustle and bustle of the city. Port James was nothing like Cajoi. Exotic merchants and strange people milled about the city, completely ignoring Menar's rumination. "I doubt that any of you have a ship in the docks, right?" Chris snorted. "No, but there used to be a lot of merchant ships that would travel up the Plutoma, but ever since they dammed up the river the water levels have been too low for any large ship to pass. Maracca used to be where our family would go to sell our crops."

"So how are we going to get there?" Menar queried. "We will still sail to the mouth of the Plutoma, but we will have to walk from there to the city. It isn't far from Maracca though, which is just as well. If it was, then the city probably would not exist anymore." Menar accidentally bumped into a man he wasn't paying mind to. The man shot Menar a dirty look, who muttered a hasty apology. Out of the corner of his eye, he could faintly see Ulrik smile.

They traversed deeper into the labyrinth of the city. People gave Menar odd looks. He imagined he must look battered, nor did he smell his best. It wasn't long before they came upon the docks. Menar though it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. It certainly was a nice reprieve from the mud and blood. "So, we're just going to take one of these boats and head off then?"

"No," Brother Paul said. "We are going to go see the harbor master and see if he has any ships in his merchant navy available to transport us." "Don't you think they have better things to do than to haul us around?" Brother Paul looked at Menar dryly, "I'm sorry, I was under the impression you wanted to find your mother." Menar clenched his fist and Chris grabbed his lower forearm. "Not now, Menar." He warned.

Menar relaxed and walked in silence. They walked along the docks, worn smooth by the countless years of porting seafarers. It was not long before they Menar found himself upon shack of an office with a fresh painted sign out front the read in longhand _Harbor Master_. When Menar was younger, the docks here held more magic for him. The walkways were crowded and busy, and the buildings were most certainly shining to their best. This was no longer the standard.

They opened the door and filed into the shack. Important looking papers were scattered about, laying off of cabinets and table tops. To the rear of the small room lay a big mess. An aging man slept with a bottle of rum, rattling off snores. Brother Paul took the front and gently shook the man. "Excuse me, sir?" The man was unresponsive. He shook him again, this time much harder.

The man awoke with a jolt, looking at them wide eyed. He yawned and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "You nearly startled me half to death, Paul. I haven't seen you down here in a good minute. What is it that you want?" he slurred. Menar sneered at Brother Paul. It sure was odd how people seem to remember Brother Paul. "I need to know if you have any merchant ships faring westward." The man grunted, propping his feet on the table and leaned back. "You know better than that, Paul. After that attack these docks have been run dry of merchants- they're too afraid of losing their cargo." "Even with increased security from the District? That doesn't really make a whole lot of sense." Ulrik muttered. "Well, fear kind of makes you take leave of senses, doesn't it? The economy is hard enough as it is. God knows they can't take their chances."

"Damn it." Ulrik pulled a pipe from his pocket, packed it, and lit it. "Surely you have some merchant marines with a free vessel." "I do not. Ever ship and body that is here needs to be here to protect this port." He tapped his finger adamantly on his desk. "If something happens we got to be at our highest state of defensive capability that we have ever been." They paused in uneasy silence for a moment. "It seems we are at an impasse." Chris said quietly. Brother Paul walked as close to the table as he could and knelt down to his level.

"Look, Sue," Chris uttered a faint chuckle, inciting a stifling look from the Port Master. "We need this. You know me very well," he licked his lips and glanced at Menar. "You know where I come from, and I am telling you this business is urgent." Sue sighed and stood up, turning away from Brother Paul. "You know how I hate it when you look at me like that." "It's only because I need this. Those men that attacked this place, they are the ones we are going after. The ones that attacked your friends, your family, your livelihood- we are going after one of the heads of the hydra." Sue whirled around.

"You mean-?" Brother Paul nodded. "Yes, Crual." Sue exhaled heavily and sat back down, reaching for his rum. "You were an Elite?" Menar asked. The man took chugged the bottle before smacking it down. "Yes, before my unit tried to go after Crual. He fared better in the attack than I did though." He looked at Ulrik and Menar followed his gaze. Menar looked at Ulrik's jagged scar and clouded cornea. "Though I wouldn't say he's as easy on the eyes for it." Sue gave an odd laugh at his own joke in short, rapid breaths. "See? I got stabbed in the lung and now I can't even laugh properly. When the attack happened, I couldn't do anything more than walk- not even run."

"Well, this is your chance to actually do something to protect this town. What good will it do to wait on the defensive again? So that they can attack again, hopefully with smaller numbers? You need to be proactive to get anywhere. Besides," Brother Paul pulled himself up. "The whole reason the Elite was started in the first place was to get rid of the Heartless. If you dig in your heels here, on friendly soil instead at the home of the enemy, then we are truly losing the battle."

Sue put his head down on his desk, defeated. "You have a silver tongue, you know that, don't you?" Brother Paul smiled and put his hand on Sue's back. "I don't know if it's because you make sense or I'm just crazy, but I'll order a ship to your command. I warn you though," Sue sat upright. "I cannot go any farther than need be, and I cannot order them to fight for you. If they go, the ship must come back in one piece."

Brother Paul nodded. "Agreed. We do not need to go very far anyways- at least, nautically. We simply need one ship to take us as close to Maracca as possible." Sue's face softened, clearly relieved. "Well, at least that's not as bad as I thought. I'll prepare the order." Brother Paul bowed his head. "Thank you." Sue pulled out a piece of parchment from his drawer, lit and they waited for a few minutes while he scrawled the order.

When he was finished, he picked up a wax stick and match from his table. He lit the match, and carefully melted part of the wax stick over the document, so that only a few drops pooled on the paper. He extinguished the match, stirring the melted pool with his wax stick to release any bubbles of air caught in it. After letting it cool a moment, he impressed his seal.

"There, it is done by order. Next time you come see me Paul, can't you just come and ask how I'm doing instead of asking for favors?" Brother Paul smiled. "Thank you again Sue. Where should we take these orders?" Sue pointed to his left. "Down at the guard house at the main entrance to the dock. They will situate the men and do what it is they need to do. Now get out of here, lest you ask me for my bottle."

Brother Paul thanked him again and they left. "Well, that didn't go like I expected, but at least we have what we need." Chris said as they walked to the main gate. The distance itself wasn't long, but they maze of walkways made it seem longer. They approached the guard house, much larger than the Port Master's office, and entered.

The house looked no different from a barracks. They walked into a small room with a desk to the wayside, rows of bunks filed down the open room adjacent to them. Menar looked at the clothing and newsletters that littered the floor in the back. "What do you want?" the guard snapped. "We have orders," Brother Paul said, handing the guard the papers. "Really? You don't look much like soldiers." He eyed the lot of him, his gaze lingering on Menar. "Except for that one. He looks like he just came off the field."

The guard glanced down at the paper and rolled his eyes. "Oh, blast it all, not Sue again. I swear he's been a pain in the ass with these since the attack." He shook the papers as if he could strangle them. "Wait here." He said, walking around them and outside. They did as he commanded and waited. It was quite some time before he came back. When he did, he came in with another. "What's all this?" "I'm sorry, who are you?" Brother Paul said. "I'm the officer of the day. Why do you need one of my ships and my men?"

Brother Paul raised his chin and looked down at the man. "Everything you need to know is in the order." The officer of the day rolled his eyes and took the paper from his admin. "Go do something." He commanded, and the guard quickly obeyed. The day officer scanned the paper, clearly annoyed that he had to actually read. After a few minutes, which Menar judged to be an obscenely long time to read such a short note, the man threw it on the desk.

"God I hate civilians. Fine, you'll get your ferry boat. That man has made the King's Army in Port James a disgrace anyway. John, Phillips, Bill- you're on escort detail!" Three distinct groans resounded from the back of the barracks. "Did the Officer Smith just hear groaning?" He announced. The three men ran from the back to front and center. "Sorry, sir; we didn't know it was you." Officer Smith leaned within a hairsbreadth of his nose. "I don't care who it is, Phillips- if someone gives you an order, then by damn you better do it and not disrespect your superiors." He barked

Officer Smith looked at Brother Paul sternly. "I don't think they're too happy with you." He smiled. "John, Phillips, and Bill are supposed to be on leave." With that, Officer John stormed out of the office. The men walked outside, one of them purposefully bumping Chris on his way out. Chris started for him, but seemed to think the better of it.

"How long do we have to wait?" Menar asked Ulrik. "If the attack had any affect at all, then the ships should be ready to go at a moment's notice." "Good," Brother Paul said. "Because I'm starved." Menar could tell that Brother Paul was trying to lighten the mood. Menar scowled and promptly followed after the men with Chris, Brother Paul, and Ulrik in tow.

The men were already far ahead, as if they were trying to purposefully lose them. Menar quickened his pace. The sooner he would arrive at Maracca the better. He wanted nothing more than to kill Crual. When the men finally stopped, they stood beside something that could hardly be called a ship. "This is it, the fabulous _Lenore_."

The man named Phillips said, kicking it for its lot. "Are you all ready to go, or do you want to take a nap in our beds before you go?" Brother Paul walked past them without even so much as a glance. "No, I think we will be fine." The three men glowered at Brother Paul, but wordlessly followed once the others were on.

"And we're off. Hopefully the wind will be with us so we can cast you all out as quickly as possible." "I'm sure you want to get back to your leave status." Chris offered, but the men did not seem to care much for the condolence. After the finished tending to the small boats ties, they cast off.

The sun took it's time crossing the sky, but for all the nautical speed of the ship, they could not catch it. The sun was short of setting, and the stars began made their humble entrance from obscurity. The ocean that ran to the horizon on the starboard drew a fine line between itself and the horizon. Menar imagined himself walking that line, as if one misstep would send him into crushing fathoms of darkness and one leap would merge him to the heavens.

"Hello, Menar," Brother Paul said. Menar looked towards him with mild surprise. "Oh, hello Brother Paul." He said nothing for a moment. "I need to apologize for what I did. I know it was not the best way for you to find out." "Most certainly not. I can't believe that you would do that to me. I don't even know who I am anymore." "I know," Brother Paul said, "I just did what I thought was best at the time. There is no instruction manual to life and some things are just better of not knowing. What would you have done growing up if you knew about this anyways, that your mother was working for the organization responsible for killing your father?"

Brother Paul looked at Menar waiting for a response. "Well, I'm not sure what I would've done, but it doesn't do any good creating hypothetical situations. What's done is done, and I am going to take it from here and make the most of it. I've got to find her and find out what happened." "It's dangerous." Menar pushed away from the rail and looked portside.

Several glimmering lights shone in the distance behind great white walls. He could make out the pointed steeple of a church amongst clustered buildings. Overlooking them all was a great, dark castle. As foreboding as it was, Menar couldn't help but marvel it. He knew that was most definitely Anvilmar. Somewhere inside the confines of that castle, slept the King. "This whole thing has been dangerous from the beginning." Menar said. "It's a miracle I haven't died yet, to be honest."

Brother Paul put his hand on Menar's shoulder. Menar sighed. "Brother Paul, I can't make it if you lie to me. I just can't." Brother Paul turned Menar to him and looked carefully into his eyes. "Menar, I would never lie to hurt you or cause you pain." Menar knew that, but said nothing. "He's right." Ulrik's voice came from behind him. "He cares about you a lot, just like I do."

Menar avoided even looking at him; he felt guilty. "Ulrik, I'm sorry. I just-" "You don't have to explain to me." Ulrik interrupted. "In fact I don't want an explanation. All I want now is to forgive and forget. Do you think you can do that?" Menar faced Ulrik. The ship rocked steadily. "Yes," Menar lied. He would be able to forgive, but he would never be able to forget.

Ulrik smiled. "Good, now let's eat. Chris has prepared us dinner. He's a nice fellow, I'll tell you that much. You're lucky he tagged along with you." "Not really. If I didn't come back he was supposed to kill me." Ulrik smiled. "Oh, well aren't you just a ball of misfortune?" Menar couldn't have agreed more.

They went down into the Settee berth, but Menar could smell my food. There on the table in the middle of the room lay nothing more than freshwater and biscuits. Menar's stomach was beginning to long for quality food. "Well this isn't much," said Menar. "Obviously," replied Phillips, "But you really wouldn't think that we would be dining on porterhouse steaks tonight, now would you?" Menar ignored him, picked up a biscuit, and popped it in his mouth.

"So, Ulrik," Chris said, "That man, Sue, said that you would actually fought Crual at one point. Is that true?" Ulrik hesitated, "Yes, it is true. His position is fairly high profile, and I was just a naïve soldier at the time when I faced him. For my inexperience I was awarded with this scar. Though, inexperience is a gross understatement. The way that man kills is a horrible skill, a finesse that reeks of much practice."

"Who the hell is Crual?" Bill asked. "Someone that were going to go kill." Chris said quietly. "Please continue Ulrik." "He killed a lot of my men. He'll most killed me as well, and I'll never forget what he had said before he gave me this... he said that my soul would rest in his blade for eternity. That blade is somehow the key to his immortality, I'm sure of it."

"Let's go, guys, obviously these guys are insane, and I'd prefer not to listen to them anymore." Phillips grunted an agreement and they went outside. "Good because those guys were really beginning to get all my nerves." Ulrik said. "Anyways that's how I think he keeps his immortality, is by killing and entrapping the souls of others to feed on."

"So what you're saying," Chris said, "is that as long as he has that sword then he's unstoppable?" "Yes," Brother Paul said, "That's why we need to infiltrate the Charlton, and kill him before he ever has a chance to draw his sword." "So were going to invade an enemy base by ourselves? Never mind just any base, but the station of one of their leaders? "There has got to be a better way to plan this. It seems awfully foolhardy to just march in there and expect to just have his head on a pike just like that."

Ulrik rapped his fingers against the table. "Crual needs to die. You all do not seem to fully comprehend that his coup de grace is, not ironically, battle itself. He makes his living, quite literally, on the fields of battle. We need to catch him when he is off guard, and unless he plans to live the rest of his life as a murderous nomad or shack up in the woods as a hermit, he is always going to be surrounded by men. We need to implement stealth in order to kill him; he is far too powerful on the open battlefield."

"What makes you think myself or Menar will be of any use then? We do not have nearly as much experience in battle as you two do." Brother Paul and Ulrik both smiled. "Thank you, but that is nonsense. You and Menar here have certain skillsets that we do not." Chris crossed his arms. "What would that be?" "Well," Brother Paul said, "you have one of the sharpest set of eyes of anyone I've met.

"You tracked Menar down quickly when he wandered off to the orphanage. Menar has a very adept in his understanding of magic and knows how to improvise well. I think with our combined efforts, we have a chance." Menar knew he was heavily understating the gravity of the situation; there was no evidence to suggest that his sword was the key to his immortality and that merely taking it from Crual would have any effect whatsoever, nor that they would succeed.

In the moments of silence that followed, Menar realized something about humanity. It was a fact that would haunt him like those grave faces in his last battle. If there was so much as a glimmer of hope that rested in the eyes of death, no matter how small, it would always magnified in the eyes of its victim. Menar realized he was squeezing the table so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

"Hey you lot," came a voice topside, "Get up here, we're about to port." Menar grabbed another biscuit and drank from the pitcher. "Well, here's hoping for the best" Chris said as the others walked up the stairs. Menar followed them and looked around. He saw several lights in the distance and stacks of smoke. He could still see Anvilmar, though it looked very far away. Then again, in the dark, everything looked far away.

"Is that where we are headed?" Menar asked. Chris nodded. "Yes, that's Maracca alright." He sighed. "I just wish that all this mess wasn't so close to my family." "I understand your anguish," Brother Paul said, "But with the way things are, I don't think that they would be safe anywhere in the country. At least you're doing something to change that." "Yeah," Chris said, but all he did was stand there.

They got off the ship and were finally in the ports of Maracca. The city itself reminded Menar much of Navaje, shanty and run down as it was. Their presence immediately incited stares from the scant few that shadily roamed the port, like the eyes of the dark watching them. Menar's heart beat lightly, and he hurried his steps. "Where are we going now?" Menar asked.

"The sun has almost set, but we need to do this in the deep of night. For now, I think it would be best to get some rest. It wouldn't benefit us any if we were tired." Ulrik pulled out his pipe and lit it. "Suites me fine. If you would like, I have some extra coin if you want a real meal. Back in my day, we were treated well before a battle. A great feast, a bed with a lady- no amenity too fine. I don't think it a fine meal to be fed dry biscuits and water."

A smile tugged at the edges of Menar's lips, and they were finally walking into the essence of the town. He heard voices, but they were speaking loudly. Going little further down the dirt street, he found the source of the raucous, raising his eyebrows. A man stood on a soap box, yelling at a sizeable crowd. "-took from us! We no longer have our livelihood! They took everything from our town and ruined us by building that damn dam!" Cheers erupted from the crowd.

They stopped to listen to the man. "That king sits in his castle happy as a hog while we suffer here so he can steal any profit from every nook and cranny of the kingdom! He won't stop until he's had our resources, our pittance, and the people's head on a pike!" The crowd roared with applause. "Come, let us go." Ulrik urged. They Ulrik to an alleyway that lead into a square. "There's an inn," Chris pointed.

They entered the inn. A man sat behind a mediocre desk and jumped up to greet them as if he hadn't had a customer in years. "Hello," he burst. "How can I help you fine fellows?" "We would like a couple rooms!" "Excellent," the man beamed, "Four rooms then?" Ulrik flashed Brother Paul a look. "No, I think two will be fine." The man looked disappointed. "Oh, but I'm sure these two lads might like a room to themselves."

"Have times really been that hard?" Brother Paul asked bluntly. The man's face hardened. "But of course. As long as we have King Ramon on the throne, it will continue to stay that way. Two rooms then?" Ulrik nodded and handed him his coin. "The rooms are down that hall there. Take your pick- you're the only customers that I have this evening, unless something else changes."

They thanked the man and walked down the hall. "Let's take the top floor so we can see as far inland as we can." Brother Paul said. They climbed up the stairs to the second floor, stopping short of the first adjacent rooms. "So who will be rooming with who?" Menar asked." I think Ulrik and I will take a room together. We'll be right across the hall if you need anything." "Fair enough." Chris said. "We will holler at you two should the need arise."

Brother Paul nodded and opened the door of the room just ahead and marched in with Ulrik. Ulrik paused for a moment and looked at Menar as if he was about to say something. Instead, he followed after Brother Paul and shut the door. Chris opened the door to their room and Menar went inside with him.

Menar plopped down on the bed, surprised at how good the cushion felt under him. He threw his feet on it too, and they thanked him for it. He heard Chris shut the door. He walked over to the opposite side of the bed. "I can't believe they're so close to my family. I thought for sure when I left that it was the King's manufacturing. What if they attacked my family's farm like they did that old couple's cabin?"

"I don't think that they would do that. If they're there to manufacture weapons, they're going to be supporting their other units. It wouldn't be well to draw attention to themselves if that is their purpose." Chris rubbed his eyes. "I suppose you're right, but I still don't like the thought of them being so close to those…those Heartless."

Menar wasn't quite for sure what to say. Chris sat motionless on the edge of the bed. "So, I guess you're not going to kill me?" Menar asked. "No, I don't think that I will. I think it'd be a fair fight though." "So, what about good ol' Commander John?" Chris snorted. "Ulrik told me not to worry about that." "I wasn't going to, but you have a family to look out for and coin to earn." Chris shook his head.

"I'd much rather be here, in the thick of it with you all. At least now I can know that even if I die, it will be directly protecting my family, not just through earnings." Menar nodded in agreement. "I'll be right there with you." Chris met his eyes. "I appreciate that, Menar. I suppose we should probably get some rest, though. Neither of us got a good rest last night." Menar smiled. "No, we didn't." "Good night, Menar." "Good night, Chris."


	16. Chapter 16: The Final FIght

**Chapter 16**

**The Final Fight**

He woke as soon as the the door creaked. Menar looked at Brother Paul and Ulrik, sitting up slowly, as did Chris. There was no dropping the kind of stare he was giving. Menar and Chris wordlessly got out of bed. "We have weapons and armor in our room. It would be best for you two to adorn them." Chris shook his head. "I do not need armor- it will slow me down." Brother Paul eyed him carefully. "As you wish."

Menar followed them into the room adjacent and saw a racks worth of leather armor and his sword. Across from his was Chris's armor, similar in nature, along with a bow and quiver. Menar walked to his armor and just stared at it while Chris slung his quiver and armed his bow. "What's the matter?" Ulrik asked him. Menar looked at the leather pitifully. "I do not know how to don it." Brother Paul flashed Ulrik a look. "Let us help you then." Ulrik said softly.

Menar stood stiffly with his arms outstreached as Brother Paul and Ulrik tightened the armor and redone some of the laces for a stronger hold. When they were finished preparing him, they stepped back. Menar walked, squatted, and jumped. "It fits better than I imagined it would." Ulrik patted Menar on his back, as did Brother Paul. As they were walking down the stairs, Menar knew what they were thinking, for he felt it himself.

"I can't even put on armor for God's sake." "Not to worry, Menar. You've held your own well enough without the knowledge." "Agreed, I've seen it in you." Chris said. They walked out the inn and hurried down the streets. They could still hear the protest that was held in the next street, surprising Menar. They ran from shadow to shadow until they were out of Maracca, and the only one to see them was a bastard tabby.

Once they were in the forest, they headed eastward until they could hear the light trickles of the Plutoma, and followed the sound north with Brother Paul in the lead. "It's a shame," Chris whispered. "This river used to run as mighty as any; pools and inlets everywhere." The damp of dew clung to them and snared them. "Menar, control your breaths and measure them." He had not realized that he was panting.

They climbed past fallen logs and dense shrubbery. It was only after an hours worth of jogging did Brother Paul slow his pace, his footsteps becoming increasingly careful with each one he took. He turned to them and ushered silence, pointing forward stiffly. Their destination was close at hand. Menar clutched the hilt of the blade and stifled his footsteps as much as possible, stepping sideways and keeping low to the ground.

Much time had passed and Menar had begun to grow impatient, when Brother Paul held his hand up, halting them. He pointed upwards, walked to the nearest tree, and began to climb it. Menar, Chris and Brother Paul walked to the trees nearest Brother Paul and they began to climb. Before Menar began his way up, he couldn't help but marvel at how quickly and silently Chris had climbed his way up.

Menar grabbed the closest branch and began the long journey up. Once he was a dozen men high, fear began to take him. He did not look down, but his movement up was much slower. He glanced at Brother Paul to see if he had stopped yet, but he had not. Menar continued to climb, all too aware of the thinning branches and narrowing trunk. The wind was hard here, and rocked and swayed the topmost of the tree.

Menar stopped and looked out into the land beyond. He saw the lights of a well established manufacturing site. There were no walls to climb over, and there were only a few sentries milling about aimlessly. This place most certainly did not look like the kind of place that a military commander would be working.

Menar looked at Brother Paul, who lightly held the tree with one hand, leaning forward with his other hand cupped over his eyes. The tree rocked him back and forth like a metronome spanning great distances. Menar looked back at the base and doubt filled him. There was no way to tell where Crual would be; that is if he was even here at all.

Suddenly, Menar heard a loud snap. He jerked his head to Chris and saw him falling. He slammed into a branch below and clung to it desperately. Menar heard the air rush out of him. Chris's weakened grip was slipping. Instinctively, Menar pushed the tree back and forth to the motion of the wind. He rocked dangerously far and the tree moaned beneath him. He gave one final swing and leapt from the treetop.

He did not go as far as he thought and began plummeting towards the earth far below, desperately reaching out for the trunk of the tree the rushed ever closer. He smacked into it, his face and hands skinned on the rough bark as he tried to hug it, falling back on a thick branch below him and landed on his back. He heard a small gasp and saw Chris falling.

Menar grabbed for Chris as he fell, but only caught the scruff of his shirt. Chris's weight pulled him over the edge. His left hand tightened its grip and he jolted to a stop, hanging. "Swing me to the trunk!" Chris said. Menar pulled Chris's weight and he grabbed the tree. Hurriedly, Menar hoisted himself onto the branch and stayed there holding it, shaking.

"Let's get the hell down from here, Chris." After another moment to collect himself, Chris began his careful descent. Menar waited to give him berth, then began to make his own way. Once they had reached the ground, they found Ulrik and Brother Paul waiting. "Chris, are you alright? What happened?" Chris was still shaking when he spoke. "That wind hit too hard and the damn twig of a branch I was standing on faltered. I think I'm fine, though I think I skinned my hide for the good of it all."

"Then let us be grateful." Ulrik said. "But we can't afford even a moment's misfortune. Once we sneak into that installation, we will need to be extremely careful and cannot be discovered- no matter what the cost." Chris nodded and turned to Menar. "Thank you; I'm not sure what I would've done if..." Menar shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're alright."

Menar looked at Brother Paul. "I couldn't see any indication of where Crual might be. Surely we cannot hope to sneak about this place with the hope of just happening upon him?" "Of course not," Brother Paul said. "But we can use logic. Even though this is Heartless occupied, it has the layout and structure of Strom. The worker's housing is going to be close to the water wheel and forge. They build the officer foreman's dorms near the recreational facilities and in relative privacy. Didn't you also see the cluster of guards posted there?"

Menar glanced at Chris. "No." "Well," Ulrik said, "I think that'll be our best bet to follow." "To go into the most guarded area?" Chris asked. Ulrik nodded. "Very well, then let's be on our way." They crept through the darkness, careful not to step on any fallen leaves or twigs to create noise. Circumventing the installation, the stopped and took cover when they heard the rustle of leaves. Tense moments followed, and the rustling continued. Menar's heart beat wildly, his eyes scanning the dark in search of the enemy. Menar kept a hand on his hilt, ready for anything.

A loud voice rebounded in the forest. "Will you hurry up? The foreman isn't going to like that you're taking a piss when you could be working." "He can bugger off." Menar jumped at the closeness of the voice. His eyes snapped and saw a dark silhouette of a man not far ahead, but he could not see his companion.

"What's he gonna do, report me for taking a leak? I wouldn't be surprised if the boss-man lobbed his head off for bothering him with such trifles. I'd laugh, too." "Fine, but don't come crying to me if he decides to chop off your junk." The voice sounded as if it was retreating. Menar shot Brother Paul a look, pointing to the man. Brother Paul seemed to understand what he was trying to say and crept forward, keeping behind the trees as he neared his way to the urinating man.

Brother Paul hurried his step with perfect agility while the man made his noise. Brother Paul was upon him before he even finished. He waited for the man to finish his business before he ambushed him. Brother Paul shot from behind the tree and grabbed the man from behind and stifled his mouth, instantly causing a struggle. He thrashed and kicked, trying to escape Brother Paul's vice-like grip, but to no avail. Menar and the others came upon him as well to assist Brother Paul.

Brother Paul shot him with a kidney punch, stunning him. As he knelt, Brother Paul cold cocked him aside his head hard. To his surprise, the man was still conscious. Brother Paul squatted to him and held his blade along the man's throat. "You scream, you die." Brother Paul hissed. The man remained silent, glaring at Brother Paul with a look to kill. "I swear if you're one of Bail's posse, I told that moron I'd have his money tomorrow, and he won't get a coin out of me until then. He knows that we-" Brother Paul put more pressure on the blade. "No, we are not concerned with money." He whispered. "And again, you'd do well to whittle your voice, or I'll whittle it for you."

Menar beheld the installation, but no one came. "Where is Crual?" The man's eyes widened in understanding. He spat in Brother Paul's face. "Scum! You'll die trying to get to him." Brother Paul looked at Menar. "Hold my blade for me." His tone frightened Menar. He did as he commanded. Brother Paul threw his fists furiously, pummeling the man's face. When he stopped, blood gushed from his nose. "Tell me what I want to know or we can elevate it from here." The man bit his lip.

Brother Paul began choking him. The man struggled against his asphyxiation. The smell of seared skin filled the air, and Menar realized he was burning him as well. Brother Paul released his grip, partially melted flesh sticking to his hands as he let go. The man choked and coughed, fixed to scream. Brother Paul put a hand over his mouth, and wordlessly healed his skin with the other. While the smell remained, the wound was gone.

"I can keep this up all night, young one. Tell me what I need to know, and you will suffer no more." The man's chest heaved, and his breath was fevered. "He's in the Conference Building- he has a room there. You'll never kill him though; he is immortal and much more powerful than you or I." Brother Paul smiled. "We shall see. Now where is this conference center? What is its purpose?" The man bit his lip again. "Menar, would you mind holding onto my sword a little longer?"

The man's eyes widened, but he did not give. Brother Paul choked him and burned him again, this time shaking him so that his head bounced of the hard ground. "Enough games." Brother Paul said, healing him once more. "Where is this Conference Room and why is Crual here?" The man panted and said nothing. "Menar, this might take awhile. You can just lay my sword on the ground." "Wait," the man pleaded. "The conference center is near the dam itself. He's here to oversee the weapons production for a project- I don't know what it is though, honest! A peon like myself doesn't get that kind of information!"

"Alright, you've done well. Chris, would you mind coming here for a moment?" Chris appeared confused, but complied. In a flash, Brother Paul snatched the knife from Chris's sheath and plummeted it into the man's throat. He kicked and squirmed. To Menar's surprise, he did not die. "Brother Paul, you're losing your touch." Ulrik whispered, leaning over the thrashing man. "You didn't even hit his jugular." Brother Paul frowned, took out the blade and whipped it across his throat. Blood pelted the juxtaposed leaves like rain.

The man lay unnaturally still. He wiped the blade on the man's chest before handing it to Chris and collecting his sword from Menar. "Well, we have what we need to know." "Yes, but how to tell which building 'in the center' is the one that he was talking about?" asked Chris. "I say that it was the biggest one that we saw on our scout." Ulrik suggested. "I agree." Brother Paul said. "They often make Conference Centers the largest and most impressive for their boards and council meetings as well as investors. In many, they also have bedding areas. It's quite possible that Crual could be located in it."

Menar finally felt comfortable that they had a relative plan. "But what if he is not?" Menar asked. "Then I suppose we will have to keep pressing until we do find him. Now that we have killed someone," he gestured to the man's body, "I do not think that it'd be wise to wait. They will definitely become more aware of what is going on and it will put him at a higher stage of alert, and we definitely do not need that."

"How are we going to move through the city, though?" Chris asked. Ulrik and Brother Paul looked at each other. "By whistling our way through." Chris looked at him, confused. "Chris, you're going to guide us through the city by climbing to a high vantage point and whistling. If someone is near us, whistle once for left, twice for right, thrice for straight ahead and four times for behind us. That way, we will be covered at all times." "But Brother Paul, you will not. I can only see so far into the city."

Brother Paul sighed, "I understand that Chris. Whenever you can no longer see us, I need you to give a long, drawn out whistle. Can you do that?" Chris nodded slowly. "Yes, I can imitate a nightingale fairly well, but what am I to do once I can no longer help?" "You'll wait for us," Ulrik said. "And something happens to us, you will go find Commander John and tell him exactly what happened." Chris nodded. "Should I find my vantage now?" There was a moment's hesitation before Brother Paul answered.

"Yes. Whenever you're ready, just give us a whistle." "Alright." Chris walked towards the edge of the forest, looking up at the treetops to find his ideal perch. "As for us, we need to be sparse, but still within sight of each other. I will take lead, Ulrik will trade to my cover once I move, then you his, Menar. Got it?" "Yes," Menar said. Apprehension twisted his gut. "Let's move out." Brother Paul said. "If you got any questions, ask them now, but from this point on, do not talk unless it is absolutely nessecary."

Brother Paul paused a moment, searching their faces, before he turned and made his way to the edge of the forest. Chris was nowhere to be seen when they had turned around. Once they crept to the edge of forest, they drew their swords and made sure their path was clear before they proceeded to the first building. The infiltration had officially begun.

Menar could feel his heart hastening as he glued himself to the side of the wall. Brother Paul peeked around the corner and stalked his way off, Ulrik following soon after. Menar did not see brother Paul, but he's saw Ulrik across the street crouching behind some forging material. The sides of the street were rife with such things, giving them plenty of cover. At least they had that going for them.

Menar scurried to the next hiding spot. From this point, he could see the way to the Conference Center. Brother Paul did not tarry, for Ulrik moved again. Menar immediately took cover again. Scurrying up the street, they paused for nothing, except for when a two notes from a nightingale sounded.

Menar was already on the right side of the street and could see nothing. He threw Ulrik a fervent look to see if he could spot them. From behind his barrel, Menar saw a man break from the alleyway of the building he was hiding. The man stopped noticing Ulrik. His hand dropped to his hilt, confused. Menar burst from the shadows. Menar kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to kneel as he drove his blade between the man's neck and shoulder. Menar heard his death rattle, reminding him of his first kill.

He pursed his lips as he dragged the man to nearby crates. The man was heavy, and it took Menar a long moment to hoist his body in the container and out of sight. Ulrik stared at him, and gestered to Menar, thanking him. Menar returned with a weak smile, but felt like he was going to upchuck.

They went little farther before they heard the frantic call of a nightingale. They reached the back Conference Center without further incident. "That wasn't the call he was supposed to give," Brother Paul whispered, turning to them. "What is he trying to tell us?" Menar leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy. "This feels…wrong." Brother Paul and Ulrik looked at him "What are you talking about?" Menar saw their faces, but had difficulty focusing. Sweat beaded the top of his brow and his vision began to darken. The world lurched and oriented itself in a small room.

_He looked down at his plans. They were flawless. Before long, this entire country will belong to The Heartless. He reclined in his chair, staring at his blue sword contentedly. Aside from the incident at the new settlement, everything was going according to plan. They lost good cultists and resources as a result of the incident, but Strom's resources suffered a far greater blow with the successful attack on Port James. He still had no leads on the boy though._

_The room's only door opened. He turned his attention to it angrily; he hated to be imposed upon. "_Sir, there is a problem." _He reached for his sword on the table, rising. "_Speak quickly._" _"Our sentries have spotted an impending attack on the city. Your presence is urgently requested." _He casually walked to the man. _"You've done good work." _He impaled him with his sword, watching him struggle weakly against his blade, dying. The blood that spilled onto his blade rejuvenated him. He pushed the cadaver off his blade. He hated to be imposed upon._

The world lurched again, and Menar was staring up at Ulrik and Brother Paul. "Did you have another vision?" Menar's eyes were wild. "Hide!" He righted himself and they searched for the nearest cover. Brother Paul was the one to spot it, pointing to a ladder near one corner of the building. They quickly climbed to the roof and stayed low. "What did you see?" Ulrik whispered to Menar. He explained his vision quickly. "Could we have been discovered?" Menar breathed.

Shouts rang through the night, as if to answer his question. Menar looked at Ulrik, mortified. "You saw me hide the body. How did they discover it?" "I don't think that's what caused the alarm." Ulrik said ominously, pointing off the roof behind Menar. "Look." Menar turned, but was uprepared for what was behind him. "Oh, God help us." The southern side of the installation was rushed with an enormous amount of people. It looked like a riot.

"What in the world is going on?" Menar said. They said nothing. They watched them with rapt attention. It looked like the entire city of Maracca was juxtaposed to the Heartless. A stream of men flowed out of the Conference Center, among them, Crual. He felt Ulrik tense beside him. Crual broke the line of defense to head the Heartless. "What is your business here?" shouted the voice Menar knew was Crual, silencing the crowd. "We, the citizens of Maracca, demand you dismantle your dam and vacate back to the king. Your presence here has destroyed our lives."

The enormous crowd behind him roard in approval. "No," yelled Crual, "Now I'm about to destroy your life." In a flash, Crual beheaded the man. With the flick of his wrist, Crual incited war. The mob smashed into the Heartless. "Move!" Ulrik said, jumping from the roof. Brother Paul and Menar followed, rolling. The battle was well underway, and their forces mixed.

"Stay close! Do not lose yourself in battle!" Menar clashed with the first Heartless he saw, stabbing him between the ribs, then whirled to bring his blade down on the leg of another who tried to rush him from the side. He sliced, parried, and countered the incoming attacks, wild with blood-lust. He felt like he was back in Cajoi. A civilian roared and tried to stab him with a pitchfork. Menar swatted it to the side and kicked him back. The man recovered and went for Menar again. This time, Menar side-stepped his attack and sliced deep into his arm.

There was no distinction between civilian and Heartless now. Dark energy filled Menar and overwhelemed him. He Willed great balls of flame and pelted his enemies with them. Menar saw a Heartless flanking Brother Paul and shot him with lightning-fire. The flash of fire attracted attention of three men, and Menar wove his blade in a flurry of patterns, beginning to become overwhelmed. A sharp rap struck his shoulder and Menar fell back, searing with pain. He he brought his sword up in a faulty defense. Ulrik sprung into the mix, slashing and throttling his blade into the men.

"Menar!" Brother Paul shouted, fighting his way to him. Menar ducked an overhead attack and speared his blade under the pit of his adversary. "I'm fine!" Menar hurled a gust of wind at the crowd, staggering most. A man kicked Menar with abnormal strength, sending him flying back. He crashed into barrels. He got to his feet quickly and beheld Crual, looming with a dreadful smirk on his face.

Menar got to his feet, his sword raised. "So, you're going to be the one to kill me? Have at me then." Menar was no fool; he did not rush this man. He waited and pooled his Connection to cause a temporary distraction. Crual smiled at him. "A strong mind. Let's hope your blade is as strong." Crual bellowed and stepped to him. Menar released the magic, engulfing his sword in flame as he hastily parried Crual's attack.

Crual immediately followed with another, flicking his wrist at every moment to mask his attack. Menar struggled and sweat to keep up with him. Crual's blade flashed like lighting, striking no place more than once. Menar couldn't focus enough to cast any spell, lest he be overcome. His wrist felt like it would break. Menar finally saw an opening and went for it, ducking Crual's blow and thrusting his sword with all his might, unleashing a wild battlecry.

Crual swatted it away almost lazily, following with another strike that knocked the sword from Menar's hands. The dark energy that filled Menar flowed over him. He Willed lightning-fire at Crual, streaking the air with jagged lines of death. Crual flipped, twisted, and danced his way out of the paths of lightning with inhuman speed. Menar barely saw Crual sling a throwing blade at him and rolled out of the way. Before he could recover, Crual was upon him. He raised his blade to execute Menar. "Prophesy be damned!"

Ulrik sprang from the battle behind, swinging his blade down, followed by Brother Paul. Crual turned to parry, but was staggered by his momentum. Menar saw his chance. He grabbed his sword and rushed Crual. Slicing and slashing, they forced Crual back. He dodged Ulrik's attack and sliced up coals from the forge next to him into their faces. Menar quickly shielded his eyes and heard a howl of pain.

He saw Crual had impaled Ulrik. "No!" Menar shouted. Brother Paul and he attacked with renewed vigor. Crual cackled maniacally as he pulled out his blade and parried. Ulrik fell back and hit the ground. Striking flurries of flashing spark flew from their blades. Menar twisted and jabbed at him while Brother Paul struck from the rear. Crual twisted out of the way of both their blades in one maneuver, bringing his blade up to his face as speeding arrow split upon it. Chris stood beside Ulrik and nocked another bow with incredible speed.

Barraging Crual with furious blows, Brother Paul and Menar redoubled their efforts as Chris's expertly shot at Crual. His face contorted with effort and his strain was clear now. He faltered slightly as an arrow found its way in his leg, but Brother Paul saw the opening and went for it. He rammed Crual and sent him flying back into the furnace of the forge. Crual jumped from it, aflame. He cried out, flinging a throwing knife at Chris. It found it's mark, and Chris cried out, dropping his bow.

They continued to battle the burning man. His hate flared in his eyes and he cleaved his blade at Menar, slicing his chest. It cut through his armor easily and sliced deep into his skin. Menar ignored the pain and slung his blade overhead. As Crual went to block it, he was sliced in his ribcage by Brother Paul and staggered. Menar sliced at his knee and Crual faultered, raising his blade to block Brother Paul's attack. Menar sliced his arm, severing his hand and sword. Crual roared and fell back, his sword and hand whirling in the air.

Not wasting a second Menar caught the sword mid-air and drove it into Crual's heart. His eyes were wild and an unworldly shriek filled the Earth. Menar felt the life essence of Crual draining into the sword and the wound on his chest closing. Crual's eyes stared at Menar. "You fool- he's coming now. The Father is coming now…and it's your fault." Crual's head fell back and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Menar could no longer feel his life essence in the sword.

He drew the sword from the dead Founders chest, panting. He ran to Ulrik and Chris, who was writhing on the ground in pain. "Brother Paul! Get Chris!" Menar knelt to Ulrik, for he lay so still. His breathing was shallow and rapid. Blood was still pouring from his chestin a deep, long wound. His knees immediately were soaked in his blood when he knelt. Menar immediately placed his hands on him and began healing, but the wound was so strange in nature and severity. Menar could feel the wound mending, but not enough to stop the bleeding. "Brother Paul, I need help!"

Brother Paul was at Menar's side in a heartbeat and placed his hands on Menar's, giving his energy. They looked at each other, grave. Ulrik pushed their hands. "Fools, it's no use." He rattled. Menar knew the sound. "No, Ulrik! Damn it you're not going to die!" Tears stung Menar's eyes and fell into his wound. Brother Paul removed his hands, tears falling from his eyes as well. "Ulrik-" "I'm just glad we got the bastard." Ulrik uttered a weak laugh the spiraled into a coughing spat. Blood flew from his mouth and trailed down his lips.

"Menar, hold my hand." Menar obeyed, barely able to see past his sorrow. "The ring is yours." Menar glanced down at the ring on his finger that Ulrik liked twisting. "Your father gave it to me after we attacked Crual. You fight with his heart and swordsmanship. He'd want you to have it.I want you to have it." Menar squeezed his hand. "You're going to be fine." Ulrik smiled weakly and stared deep into Menar's eyes. "I love you, Menar." Ulrik's smile relaxed and his eyes lost their luster. His grip on Menar's hand became limp.

It slipped from Menar's grasp. "No…" Menar cradled Ulrik's face and put his forehead on Ulrik's forehead. Tears rained from Menar and down on Ulrik's face. "Menar…" Brother Paul said. Menar let go of Ulrik's face, his cheeks bloody from Menar's hands and his face wet with his tears. It looked like Ulrik was crying too.

He turned his attention to Chris. The throwing knife lay beside him. "I'm alright. I just-" Chris saw Ulrik's body. "Oh, shit." The clash of battle still sounded from the next street, but did not sound nearly as heated. The scent of death, mud, and blood fouled the air. "We need to get out of here." Brother Paul said. "I'll carry Ulrik, you shoulder Chris."

Menar seathed his sword and shouldered Chris, still holding Crual's ethereal sword in the other. They made their way out of the installation, keeping out of sight in the alleyways, passing a multitude of dead bodies. The sound of death and war still raged on behind them.

They had finished the grave when dawn came. It was atop a hill overlooking the Plutoma and the Debreolli Ocean, and what Menar thought was a good place. The sun shone bright for as early as it was. He looked down into the grave. They had cleansed Ulrik of the blood that soiled him. Though he was still dirty, he looked almost peaceful. Menar looked at the ring on his fnger.

It filled Menar with anger, knowing that nobody would ever know that this man was buried here. But it was for that reason, that they were burying Crual's sword with Ulrik. It was imbued with far too much power for the world to ever witness again. Menar and Brother Paul mourned openly. Chris stood in the back, stoic. "I'm sorry for your loss." He offered to them.

Brother Paul nodded to him, wiping his eyes. "Thank you, Chris." He shuddered a breath. "We need to say our final words." Brother Paul looked at Menar, but he said nothing. "He was a good man." Brother Paul started. "He fought and died for everyone in this country, suffered and bled for our brothers and sisters of Strom. He was a good man." Brother Paul finished.

Menar stared down at him, pausing a moment. The wind whipped Menar's hair and pushed his tears back as the sun warmed his face. "He was a good man. He taught me much about life, and he taught me much of death. I hated him for not telling me about my Heartless mother." Brother Paul stared at Menar. Fresh tears fell from Menar's eyes. "But in truth, he and Brother Paul were like the family I never had. He raised me, guided me- he saved my life last night." Menar wiped his eyes. "I could never pay him back."

Menar fell silent and looked up at Brother Paul. Menar nodded and they began to toss the dirt into the grave, burying the sword and Ulrik forever. When they finished they stood silent. The sound of rushing water sounded and they looked to the Plutoma. They watched it for a moment as it rapidly increased in size and expanded. "It looks like they won the battle and destroyed the dam." Chris said quietly. "That means my family will be safe."

Menar wiped his tears once more. "Yes." "What are we to do now?" Chris asked. Brother Paul looked at him. "We must go to the king at once." He drew the attention of Chris and Menar. "He must be informed of the defeat of his installation. The amount of Heartless that was there….I garuntee his men succumbed to The Heartless. If this is happening, and cities start rebelling, he needs to be informed. Strom is on the brink of a massive, bloody civil war."

Menar looked at Brother Paul. "How are we to seek audience with the King? Look at us." Brother Paul looked to the ocean. "Because I am the one who founded the Elite. I am their Commander-In-Chief." Menar and Chris glanced at each other. "That's impossible. The Elite was over 100 years ago." "That's right. I am immortal myself." Menar's head spun. "What? You're lying."

Brother Paul avoided his eyes. "I'm afraid it's true. Over one hundered years ago, the Heartless began their invasions, starting in the North. They killed my parents. To get revenge, I joined them." Menar knelt down. "No." "I made my way up their ranks. They were a young cult, and I easily rose to commander status. Their Founders recognized me and gave me immortality. I stole all the information I could and took it to the First King.

"He created the program and appointed me to its head. If it wasn't for me, this country would've already been consumed by The Heartless, but today, together, we did what no one in over a hundred years could do- kill a Founder." He searched Menar's eyes before looking into Chris's. "We have the power to save this world."

"I don't care what happened before." Menar said, turning back to Ulrik's grave. "I don't care who you are, Brother Paul. As long as you help me kill the rest of The Heartless and find my mother." Brother Paul nodded. "Do you want to grieve some more?" Brother Paul asked Menar. Chris looked him concerned. Menar rose to his feet and turned to face the dawn. "I want to save this world; I will not grieve anymore."


End file.
